


Vertigo

by tangureen



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst and Humor, Enemies to Lovers, Happy Ending, Hockey player dream, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Olympics, Self Esteem Issues, Slow Burn, figure skater george
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-25
Updated: 2021-03-11
Packaged: 2021-03-15 01:27:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 39,831
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28930251
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tangureen/pseuds/tangureen
Summary: Since George was young, the Olympics had been the only thing on his mind. Trouble arises when he clashes heads with a hockey player named Dream, and George can’t handle having a new found enemy of some sort.Now trouble seems to be following George, and nothing good comes with trouble.
Relationships: Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF)
Comments: 267
Kudos: 495





	1. The Beginning

**Author's Note:**

> Hey! So this is enemies to lovers. I know it’s a classic, but keep in mind this is also fiction. This doesn’t depict them in real life at all. 
> 
> There is some content warnings such as self esteem issues, overbearing/toxic relations with parents, and injuries. It won’t be too bad, but it’s all good in the end. :)
> 
> I am also not an expert on figure skating, I researched as much as I could about trials and figure skating to get this down as accurate as possible. I’m still unsure with how competitions and scoring works as well as things like Olympic trials work out. Please bare with me and if you have any possible input I would be more than happy to hear it! I really would like any information possible. <3
> 
> This once again is fiction, both characters in this fic are completely okay with shipping. Please do not send to cc’s or disregard their feelings and push it in their faces (or any cc for that matter). It would be greatly appreciated. ^-^
> 
> Enjoy this, I have worked the past week on this and would love to hear your input on it. :)
> 
> **** I DIDNT BETA READ ANY GRAMMATICAL ERRORS OR PLOT HOLES WILL BE FIXED IN FURTHER CHAPTERS****

George enters the cold rink, the lights are on as he expected. The owner of the rink had granted him access to stay after for his training that was towards his Olympic trials as long as he locked up afterwards.

He sets his bag down on the bench, noticing another one not too far away. George sighs,  _ kids always forget their bags behind.  _ After tightening his laces, he makes his way towards the rink where he now makes out a long figure hitting a puck into a makeshift goal. George frowned to himself, quite annoyed that Mr. Kingsley didn’t mention anything about having a guest to accompany him during his practice. 

But he persists, putting in his earbuds for warm ups, then will move to his speaker system to practice his routine. George was admittedly a bit cold, typically he wouldn’t wear his jacket when practicing his dance, but that was only because it was less cold in the mornings when people would be all about. Today he didn’t bring his jacket as he didn’t think he would need it, but he was wrong. 

He was only wearing a thin black fit t-shirt and black leggings, so it wasn’t much to warm him. George takes off to the other side of the rink though, ignoring the cold and whoever that guy at the other end was. 

George does some stretches, then begins his warm up moves. 

He doesn’t even notice when the guy skates over, because he finishes a camel spin, lowering his foot down but being caught off guard when he sees bulky black skates not too far from him. George jumps, slipping and falling onto his ass with a soft  _ drink oof. _

Angrily, George takes his earbuds out and stands up, “What’s your problem?”

“You’re on my rink, I asked for it so I could practice,” the guy says. He’s wearing a presumably football sweatshirt and sweats, his hockey stick in one hand. And fingerless gloves. George eyes him for a moment, his hair is masked by a beanie and he has sharp features. But he looks angry.

“No, I asked Mr. Kingsley for the rink, I have Olympic trials coming up and I can’t afford to waste time, I’ve been trying for years and I’m not letting some asshole ruin it for me,” George crosses his arms, “I’m skating. I’m practicing, don’t like it? Then you can leave.”

“For such a pretty boy you have such a horrible attitude,” the guy huffs, “Well guess what, I’m practicing for the olympics. What, what’s your sport? Figure skating? That’s hardly even a sport all you do is skate around to music.”

That struck a chord in George, not a good one, because before he knows it he’s slapping this stranger and knocking him to the ice, “I could hit a million pucks into the stupid fucking goal, but you could never do something as simple as an axel.”

The man below him groans and puts a hand to his face, “Jesus Christ, chill out.” 

“You’re pretentious and a prick, who are you to call figure skating just moving to music? All you hockey idiots do is slam each other into walls and curse each other out,” George spits, “Now either get off the rink or stay on the other side.”

The guy gets up and brushes himself off, “Whatever, you do you.”

He skated back to the other side of the rink and George still feels annoyance tingling his skin. This guy of course would be nothing but an asshole, he just looked like one to begin with. George goes back to practicing simple two foot spin and a couple Biellman spins to get himself warmed up for his routine. 

There was one thing he was particularly nervous to do. His coach wanted him to incorporate a quad loop into the routine to boost his score. George had practiced it multiple times with his coach, and out of how many times he tried he only at least landed it  _ twice.  _ Typically he wasn’t a nervous person, he didn’t hold much anxiety performing to his coach, or just general anxiety doing his tricks.

George had been doing ice skating since he was five, now almost twenty. From a young age he was very talented, his coach kept him in a very small bubble and guaranteed him success. Despite doing it so long, his coach had also held him back from doing a lot of tricks because he didn’t think George was ready enough for them. 

He takes out his earbuds and sets his ipod on the ledge, skating back to the middle of the rink to give him power. George was thankful for the rink being so large. His coach said he didn’t want George practicing the quad loop alone, as he should have someone there in case he injured himself. But to him it didn’t matter, he needed to stick the landing.

Powering up, he takes off, and attempts the loop. He pulls his arms to his chest and shuts his eyes, and when he knows he’s made four turns he releases. But his skate slips and he tumbled to the ground, almost smacking his face on the ice if it wasn’t for his hands. 

“God damnit,” George whispered to himself, he trudged himself up and pressed his hands to his face to ease how tense he feels, “A few more times, I got this.”

He tries many more times, but each time he tumbles to the ice each time. Sighing heavily, he lifts himself up and skates back to the middle.  _ I will get this. _

George speeds up and then goes for it, he twists and then releases himself when he finally reaches the fourth turn. He lands it, immediately smiling, and steadying himself from the speed of his exit. Unfortunately he must’ve been slightly too close to the ledge and glass of the rink because his body hits it and sends him back into the ice. 

His head buzzed from the impact and he closed his eyes,  _ I landed it, that’s all that matters,  _ George thinks. 

He doesn’t even notice when the guy from earlier skates up and squats down next to him, “Are you okay?” he asks.

George opens his eyes and looks up at him, “I’m fine.” 

“You hit the side pretty hard, if you’re okay after that maybe you should be a hockey player,” he jokes, “I was watching you a little bit, you fell a lot. Are you good?”

“Yeah, it’s just a difficult move,” George pushes himself up and rests his weight on his hands, “Quad loop, it’s a really difficult spin move and not a lot of figure skaters attempt it during their trials, the only one I can recall is during the Grand Prix last year.”

The guy nods, “It looks hard, have you ever gotten it before now?”

“Yeah, twice,” George shrugs, “I think I’ve attempted it more than a hundred times though.”

“Well three times is better than none, right?” he says, “I also don’t know if that applies to figure skating, so don’t take my word for it.”

“No, it kind of does,” George says, “Not always though, if I want to do it in the olympics trials I have to nail it.”

The guy offers a hand out, “Don’t give up yet, I’m sure you’ll get it.” 

George takes his hand and the guy pulls him up, “By the way, I’m Clay, but everyone calls me Dream.”  _ Dream  _ says to him, “It’s a nickname.”

“I’m George,” he responds, “It’s just my name.”

——

A day later at the rink, George is getting pep talked by his coach. He’s holding his shoulders and leaning down so their eyes meet, “Just focus George, you want that spot in the Olympics? Then show it.”

George nods, “Yes, coach.” 

“Get on the ice and show me and your other buddies who is taking the spot on the figure skating team,” his back is patted and then George is off to the middle of the rink. He takes a deep breath, waiting for the music to start. It’s a more gloomy song, like one you’d hear in a horror film. 

Something catches his eye before he starts, though. A bunch of hockey boys made their way to the ledge and nudged and laughed with each other— one of them recognizable as Dream. They were all watching him intently, it seemed.

When it started, he flowed easily to the song, as if his movements would tell a story. He performed a few tricks, almost perfectly. George runs over the flips and tricks he has to do in his mind,  _ double loop + double axel… camel spin… he’ll also get to his Biellman spin…  _ but his mind is stuck on the quad loop.

It’ll be okay, most likely. He does his approaches, does his other things that he’s aced. But then comes the approach to the quad loop, his coach is watching from where George can see him, and he looks disappointed almost. 

But he continues, getting the speed for the quad loop, taking off, and then—  _ bang.  _ It catches him off guard midair and he tumbles to the ground, scraping his leg with his ice skate and crashing to the ice. 

His head spins from the impact with the ice and he bites his lip in pain. He can hear his coach call for a medic and then he can hear his coach screaming at people.

_ “Do you want him to get seriously injured?” _

George’s leg hurts, and his head grows in pain the longer he’s on the ice.  _ This isn’t good. The Olympic trials are next year, I can’t handle an injury right now. _

The medics come and help him stand up, he feels dizzy, the world is spinning around him. They get him off the ice and help him sit down. His coach is still screaming at whoever fucked him over and he allows the medics to clean him up. They bandage his head and leg, making sure he’s okay to stand before helping him get his skates off.

“You’ll probably have to go to the hospital to stitch this up, it’s too deep,” a medic says, “So when you go home today make sure you get to a hospital okay?”

_ As if.  _ George thinks.

After a few minutes he’s all patched up and they’re checking him for a concussion, they ask a few questions and George thankfully can pass them all with ease. 

He watched as a few rink workers began to clean up the ice. 

George limps over to the group of hockey boys and crosses his arms, “Which one of you did it?”

A few of them snickered, “What, the princess on ice didn’t like that?”

George turns his head to the guy who said it and grabs him by the jersey, “I don’t give a fuck if you’re stronger than me. If I wanted to I would casterize you with the blade of my ice skate. Now who banged on the glass.”

“Dream,” he says, and George releases his jersey, turning his head to the dirty blonde.

“You think this is some sort of joke?” George scoffed, “Play the nice guy then go and screw me over? You know I could’ve broken my ankle or far worse?”

“Easy there, kitty, don’t get too bold,” Dream smirks.

That was the last straw for George. He would never, never in his life like this  _ Dream  _ guy. So George punched him straight in the nose, shaking his hand after, “Don’t ever talk to me again, or it’ll be your dick.”

He limps away and ignores his coach's hand that reaches out for him, storming into the locker room and locking himself in a stall to cry. With the injury he’d be short of practices. George couldn’t afford that. 

In truth he felt embarrassed, being in front of a bunch of guys who already undermined his sport he felt foolish. He should be prepared for the worst in figure skating, a lot of other skaters had a bad attitude. 

There was plenty of sabotage that went under the ropes of competition. Years ago, a boy in his older division had his skates hindered before the competition and they broke midway. It was enough to pull him from the competition and injure him enough to put him in the hospital.

George wasn’t a jealous person, as much as he wished he always got the gold, sometimes there was someone who was better than him. 

Throughout his career, his parents pushed him constantly for the gold. He succeeded almost always, but when he got his first silver his mother scolded him and told him he needed to perfect his skills and practice more. It was a lot of pressure, but he supposed it worked in the end. He was the four time champion at the Grand Prix four years straight and the next Grand Prix is soon, which will determine if he gets into the Olympic trials.

He wipes at his eyes and doesn’t bother to think how bad his parents were going to be scolding him for something he had no control over.

Olympics had been on his mind since he was 13, but his coach said he wasn’t ready. Every year he begged, his coach had told him that he wasn’t ready. Now he has the weight for perfecting his routine to impress the judges and get to the Olympic trials. 

The Grand Prix is in four months, and then it’s the Olympic trials in November the following year.

He finally gets out of the stall and limps his way to his bag, exiting the locker room. His coach came up to him and placed a hand on his back, “Rest up and take it easy, don’t strain yourself or you’ll get an extended leave, you hear me?”

George sighs, “Can’t you like, get those guys in trouble? They purposely sabotaged me mid trick, they deserve punishment.”

“I’ll be talking to their coach, just get home and do some stretches and workouts to keep in shape. Maybe socks on a wooden floor to keep yourself moving,” his coach suggests, “You’re my best skater, I’d hate to see you struggle because you pushed yourself too hard, I don’t want a rerun of what happened last time.”

“Last time is in the past, I’ve not taken a break from skating since I was sixteen, even with that incident I still went on,” George says, “This injury is nothing to me.”

“But it’s something to  _ me, _ ” Coach responds, “Take care, bud.” 

George glanced one more time back to Dream’s team, where Dream was sitting on the bench with an ice pack over his nose. A few of the other members looked back at him and George smirked, leaving the building and into the Summer air. 

He phones Sapnap, telling him he needs a ride because he can’t ride his bike back to their apartment with his injury.

When Sapnap arrives he rushes up to George, “What happened to you?”

George scoffs, but smiles nonetheless, “You should see the other guy.”

Sapnap rolls his eyes, “You’re insufferable. Control your anger, Gog, it’ll get you nowhere.”

“Like you can talk,” George laughs, “Last year, Joey Dubois. Screamed at him for twenty minutes because he called me a few names.”

“The prick totally deserved it!” Sapnap complained, he wraps an arm around George’s waist and helps him into the car, “It’s not like you were going to do anything about it.”

“I would’ve handled it, but you told me to back down,” George rolled his eyes, buckling up, “Don't forget my bike, thanks.”

“What? Am I your servant now?” 

“Yes, move along, servant,” George shood, “Fetch me the finest wine while you’re at it.”

“With your weak tolerance? I’ll get you some water,” Sapnap smirks.

“Hey!”

——

George stretches and warms himself up the rest of the day. He can’t move around a lot especially if it still hurts to walk on. The medics said he’d need stitches, but he truly didn’t want to go to a hospital.

His thoughts trail to how many practices he’s going to miss. 

He could go to the rink tonight, to just skate around. George knew he could get in trouble for that by his coach, and definitely would get scolded by Sapnap. 

But it’s a pulling force. The ice is home to him, without it he feels lost. Unlike most skaters, he spends almost fifty hours a week training. Sometimes it’s even sixty if he has the energy. There isn’t much he can think of that he does outside of skating.

He practices, goes home and practices, goes to ballet on weekends, and then repeats. Most people would find this lifestyle difficult, but it was less than he used to do back when he lived with his parents. But he’s become accustomed to always being out and about with skating, so being home for hours on end at his apartment feels so lonely. Even with Sapnap no further than a room away, he feels sad.

After hours of going through videos on his phone about figure skating and ballet he sets his phone down. He should eat, he hasn’t all day. But he doesn’t have much of an appetite. Figure skaters don’t always have much of an appetite anyways.

From a young age George was watched over by his parents for what he ate. Eating junk food was never allowed, even when he was a child. He wasn’t allowed to go trick or treating like the other kids. George wasn’t even that tall or big of a person, he was average height at the least, and actually a few pounds underweight. He didn’t particularly like it, but he couldn’t help it.

He makes himself toast and then gets a bowl of yoghurt. It would be enough for now. 

He waits for Sapnap to fall asleep then slips out of the apartment quietly. A walk would clear his mind a little, and it was only fifteen minutes out. 

It was a quiet walk, but his leg ached with each step. George thought of the injury as just an annoyance.

When he finally gets there, he unlocks the door and locks it behind him. The lights are all off except the one above the rink. Admittedly the rink was scarier at night when he was all alone, the thought of anything happening and no one finding out for hours was frightening, but he persists and sits down on the bench to get into his skates. 

George stands up and wobbles to the ice. It’s fresh, the zamboni must’ve just finished recently. He takes his first step onto the ice and ignores the pain in his leg to get to the middle. Standing quietly, he stretches his arms and spins in small circles. 

Then he gets a little bolder, skating around the rink. He could attempt a jump, maybe just a simple loop. It’s risky though, and George doesn’t want to get himself hurt more and have to risk being injured and having no way to contact anyone. 

He also thinks of how the quad loop wasn’t necessarily completely rare. Sure, it wasn’t commonly performed, but he could think of two people that were on the opposing teams that nailed them or are getting close to it. ‘Nailing’ tricks in ice skating isn’t necessarily possible as there’s always room to judge, but they’ve landed it plenty of times and George was envious. If they pulled the quad loop at the Grand Prix, it was majorly possible that they’d see the gold and he’d see the bronze.

Bronze wasn’t what he wanted, he needed the gold. George hesitates, but begins an approach to simple axel jump. He lifts and twists his body, but the pain is unbearable the moment he lands. George sits himself down on the ice and sighs. 

“What are you doing here?”

George snaps his head up to see Dream, he had his arms crossed and an eyebrow raised in his direction.

“Why do you care?” George scoffs, “Go mind your own business.”

“Well when you’re injured I don’t think you should strain yourself, you’ll just get more injured,” Dream says.

“Who’s fault do you think that is!” George pushes himself to stand and zips to the exit of the rink, “This is your fault, you wanted to be funny but you just ended up potentially ruining my life.”

“I didn’t know you’d fall, I thought figure skaters were meant to have the utmost focus,” Dream shrugged, staring down at him with teasing eyes, lips pulled into a smirk. There’s bruises under his eyes and on his nose bridge from when he punched him.

“We do, but not everyone bangs on the glass mid jump,” George squints, feeling unbelievably annoyed with this douchebag, “So much worse could’ve happened. And I would have blamed you for all of it.” 

“You know you kinda remind me of a kitty,” Dream teases, “Small, skittish, and… you’re flexible if you know what I mean.”

When George finally gets what Dream was hinting at, he attempts to slap Dream, but the tallers hand grabs his wrist and holds it, “Your wrists are so thin, my hand can wrap around it entirely.”

“What?” George pulls his wrist away, “You’re pathetic.”

“Just being myself,” Dream smiles, “What, never been teased before?”

“I have,” George said, “But you’re a nuisance. How can anyone love someone like you?”

“Ouch, George, my mom loves me,” Dream feigns hurt, “I will say I’m also surprised anyone can stand being with you longer than ten minutes.”

George glares at him, choosing to ignore Dream’s insult, “You can’t tell my coach I was here.”

“And why not? You disobeyed him,” Dream says, “Not very elegant to disobey a higher up.”

“Figure skating is my life, I can’t just miss practice,” George looks away, “Whatever. It doesn’t matter, I’m going. The rink is yours.” 

He turns and limps away, but Dream grabs his shoulder, “Your leg is bleeding.”

“I don’t care,” George responds, “It’s nothing. I don’t even feel it anymore.”

Lie, a complete lie. It hurts like hell, but he doesn’t wanna show weakness or act like Dream is right.

“Doesn't look like it,” Dream comments, eyes trailing back down to his wound, “Like I said, you’re bleeding.”

“I’m not bleeding,” George looks down, the gauze he had wrapped around his tights was tainted red. To be clear, he didn’t mind blood that much. He’s seen a lot of it in his skating career, but he feels his head spin, “Oh.”

Dream grabs him by the shoulders, “Don’t pass out on me.”

“I wasn’t—“ George stuttered, “I wasn’t planning on it—“

He slips a little bit Dream pulls him closer to his chest, signing heavily, “I said don’t pass out. I didn’t know you were weak with blood.” but he more so whispers that to himself.

George awakens to a bright light shining down into his eyes. There’s an ache in his leg, and he sees a tall man leaning against the wall with his arms crossed.

“You’re awake,” Dream said, “Pleasure to see your big brown eyes.”

“Do you ever shut up?” George asked, then looked down at his leg, “What happened to me?”

“I think you saw your own blood and passed out,” Dream says, “You got thirteen stitches in your leg.”

“Oh Jesus,” George lays his head back down to look at the ceiling, “My parents are going to kill me. This is it. I’m a dead man.”

“Calm down, they haven’t shown up yet,” Dream replies, “They called them though. I should also mention you’re not allowed to skate for seven to fourteen days.”

“That’s—“ George is cut off when the door of the room swings open, his mother staring down at him while his father stands tall behind him.

“I’ll let you guys be alone,” Dream smiles, he exits the room and closes the door.

Immediately his mother wails, “How could you do this to your poor mother?”

“I-I didn’t mean to, it was an honest mistake and I didn’t even know that it would happen—“ George tried, but his father raised a hand, like he always does to silence him.

“We’re disappointed, George, all this time and money spent for you to go to these practices and all of the times we’ve supported you and you do this?” he says to his son, “You’re slacking off. You barely got gold last tournament. We expect the best from you always.”

“Yes father,” George says quietly, “When I’m able to practice again I’ll work harder.”

“You never do enough, you’re never trying hard enough,” his mother cuts in, “I get disappointed even when you get gold. My son should be far ahead of the other skaters, just like you used to when you were young. It was all my friends would talk about. Now they think I’ve raised a slacker.”

George is quiet. In truth it was never about him, it was only his parents. They didn't care how he was doing, what he did in his free time, or even bothered to just talk to him. It was constant disappointment, he could never be good enough for them. He knows he’s not the best, but parents are always supposed to support you. It feels suffocating.

The door opens again and Dream clears his throat, “Uhh, your Coach.. yeah he wanted me to take you back to the rink so he can talk to you. I’ll let you get discharged and then we can head out, yeah?”

The skater offers a small nod, “I should get going. Bye mom, bye dad. I love you.”

“Bye son,” his father says. 

He doesn’t say  _ I love you _ , or  _ I’m proud of you _ . Nothing.

He limps his way out of the room and is immediately bombarded by Dream, “God your parents are assholes.”

“They just want me to be the best.”

“By criticizing your every move, blaming you for things you can’t help, not even saying they love you?” Dream is about to speak again, but George waves a hand.

“Can we not talk about this?” George said, “Don’t think I like you or anything, I mean thanks for taking me to the hospital but by no means do I forgive you for being the cause of this injury.”

Dream looked to his feet, “Uh, yeah totally. I mean your coach doesn’t actually need to see you. You just sounded upset so I wanted to get you out of the fire or something?”

“Whatever, I can handle it,” George shook his head, “Now if you don’t mind, I need to call my friend to pick me up.”

George walks ahead of Dream, not looking back. In truth there was some sort of guilt that plagued the back of his mind, but George was one to hold grudges. He wasn’t just going to let a stupid hockey player get away with ruining his life potentially.

He gets to the front desk and asks for discharge papers, happily signing away at them then thanking the lady at the desk. George knows he’s going to get the heat from his Coach in the morning. He doesn’t even know how his parents bought that his Coach needed him at the rink, it was nearing three am. 

George gets a phone call from Sapnap before he can even type in his number, so he willingly answers it. His ear is bombarded with Sapnap’s loud voice, “You idiot! Where the fuck are you at?”

“At the hospital.”

“What?” Sapnap said, “Why the fuck are you at a hospital? Are you okay— did you get kidnapped or jumped—?”

“No, no, just come pick me up okay?” George sighs, then softly says, “I don’t want to talk about it.”

Sapnap lets out a heavy breath on the other end, “You’re still getting an earful when I get you.”

“Yeah, I know,” George laughs lightly, “Just get here quick, you moron.”

The call ends and George hears footsteps behind him, “Son.”

He whips his head around and then quickly looks away, “Yes, father?” George responds faintly.

“You’re expected to heal up in weeks time, I demand call the moment you’re better and want to make a new schedule for you,” he says, “You also will participate in physical exercises to keep yourself in shape, you shouldn’t be using this time to put on any extra weight especially if you’re going to peruse in ice skating.”

His mother joins, “Figure skaters are supposed to be small and dainty, like angels on ice. Don’t use this time to slack off.”

George rolls his eyes, “I wasn’t planning on it.”

“Don’t get snotty with me George, we are your parents and no matter how old you may be we’ll always be in charge,” his father scolds, “Now. I hope you have a ride home. Your mother and I have work in the morning.”

“Don’t worry, I do,” George said, “Bye.”

They left without another word and he watched as their car drove out of the parking lot. George hated crying more than anything, but he felt the tears fill his eyes. It was silent, he didn’t cry heavily but he felt so frustrated at everything.  _ It wasn’t his fault.  _

“George?” 

George tenses at the voice, “I don’t want to talk to you.”

Dream scoffs, “I don’t care if you do or not,” he walks and comes to sit down next to him, “Stop letting your parents walk all over you. First the criticism over something that’s not your fault, and now they’re telling you to lose weight?”

“It’s not like that,” George says, “They love me and just want what’s best for me. Sure they’re overbearing, but they’re doing this because they know I can be better.” 

“That’s bull,” Dream replies, “You’re already small as is, losing weight would be bad for you. Not to mention you’re already really good at what you do, I haven’t seen you practice many times but I’ve seen enough.”

“Would you just stop trying to be my friend?” George snaps, “I don’t know what you want from me, in case you  _ already  _ forgot, which I wouldn’t be surprised if you did, you’re the reason this happened.”

“I’m sorry,” Dream says, “All the other guys on my team are always nagging at me for being too nice so they pushed me to mess with you. That was my fault, and I’m sorry.”

George frowns, “Stop letting them control you,” he mocks from Dream’s earlier words, “I don’t accept your apology. Leave me alone.” 

Sapnap happens to drive up at just the right time, parking and getting out the car to look at George. He looks at Dream and narrows his eyes, “Do I need to fight someone?”

“No, Sap, just get back in the car and let’s go,” George has slight trouble getting up, but gets to the car and opens the door, “I just want to go home.”

He doesn’t spare another glance back to Dream, his mind won’t let him.

It was his fault after all, and there was nothing that George could think of that would ever make him forgive Dream. Peer pressure or not, it was still him to blame. 

Nothing more could go wrong.


	2. Healing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> George is healing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys!!!! Chapter two!!! :)
> 
> In this chapter it’s more focused on George personally, his thoughts, feelings, day to day life while he’s out of figure skating. 
> 
> I’d like to content warn this chapter at the very beginning to say that his mother pesters him about weight, it’s small and not that big. In future chapters this may or may not play a roll, I’m still deciding. George doesn’t particularly agree with his mother’s input, but I’d also like to say it’s hard to have to deal with these things being pushed on you by people who are supposed to support you. Just to give a perspective for the future.
> 
> I’d also like to say that don’t let this chapter mislead you. It is enemies to lovers and slow burn, so don’t trust the gut too soon yet. :) Hehehe. *evil author laughter*
> 
> Once again input on figure skating is 100% accepted! It definitely helps me and I want this to be as accurate as I can.
> 
> I changed the skill George was trying to accomplish to a quadruple loop, and his age is 19! So Dream, George, and Sapnap are all the same age :). Except it still goes in order from oldest to youngest! 
> 
> I think that’s all I changed... Without further adoo (?), chapter two!
> 
> ALSOOOO !!! I listened to Heartbeat by Chilidsh Gambino while writing this. If you wanna listen go ahead! If you all are interested I can make a spotify playlist for this as well :)

George had locked himself in his bedroom for the past three days. He only came out when Sapnap practically forced him to come eat or dragged him out to watch a movie. He wasn’t feeling anything, really. There wasn’t much to feel when you have nothing better to do than stretch, work out, and sleep. He’s busied himself a lot with watching videos and routines online and tried to work through them together while they went on.

But it was boring. He didn’t have a life outside of skating, and he couldn’t skate. George was laying on his bed when his phone buzzed, it was his mother.

“Hello?” George said, “Is everything okay?”

“Yes, I came to check on you,” she responded, “Have you been working out and doing your stretches?”

“Yes,” George answered, “It’s all I’ve been doing.”

“So we should expect results?” she asked, “Have you lost any weight?”

“I don’t know, I haven’t checked,” George said, “I’ve been eating healthy I promise.”

“Well go check,” she said, “I need to see where you’re at.”

George sighs. He doesn’t really want to, but going against his parents is one of the worst things he can do. So he goes into his bathroom and locks the door behind him.

The scale is one of his worst enemies. He didn’t really love the idea of having to keep track of what he weighed, nor did he like the idea of being so thin all the time. 

His mother is put on speaker, and George steps on the scale. 

_ 120lbs. _

“It says 120 pounds,” George says to her, he hears a quiet hum, and his heart feels sore for a moment.  _ Please don’t say I need to lose more. _

“Shed a few more,” she tsks, “It’s good but not good enough. My friend's son is beginning figure skating and he’s 115!”

“He’s also younger than me, mother,” George says, “I’m already underweight, I don’t think I need to lose anymore tha—“

“Are you talking back?” his mother cuts him off sternly, “I’m your mother, I know what’s best for you.” 

“Right,” George responds, “What’s my goal?”

“115,” she says, “Bye son.”

“There’s nothing else you want to say?”

“No, I’ll message you later with your schedule after your stitches come off,” she hangs up, leaving George to the silence of his bathroom. Distinctly he can hear the soft sounds of the television in the living room.

He goes to his bedroom and changes into leggings and a sweatshirt. George supposed he could go out for a walk, he needed to get out of the apartment eventually. 

Sapnap is fast asleep on the couch when he leaves, he tugs a blanket over his resting body and then writes a quick note to say he’ll be back. 

It was nearing September, the leaves were slowly fading away into brighter colors and George had to say, he did love Autumn. It was a season of peace to him. He only walks as far as his body would let him, stopping at a cafe he frequents before he would go to ballet classes. 

Karl, one of the workers greets him with a big smile, “George! It’s good to see you!”

“Hey, Karl,” George smiled, “How are you?”

“Good actually! The cafe’s been getting recognition recently so we’ve been getting more customers,” Karl explains enthusiastically, “What’s up with you? How’s figure skating?”

“It’s good, I’m close to getting my quad loop,” George smiles, “But I’ll be on hold for the next two weeks, I inured myself at practice.”

“Gosh I can’t imagine how horrible that must be,” Karl looks sad, “I hope you heal up well. How about this coffee is on the house, just a little get well soon present from me to you.”

“Karl you don’t have to,” George laughs softly, but Karl waves his hand, “You’re insufferable. Thank you, I appreciate it.”

“So you’re not a complete bitch all the time?” 

George whips his head, almost hard enough to break it. 

Dream stands with a cheeky grin and rests his elbow on one of the higher counters, “I didn’t expect to see you here.”

“What are you doing here?”

“I was on a run with my team, just working out and stuff,” Dream hums, “But are you allowed out and about?”

“It’s stitches not prison,” George rolls his eyes and goes to the other end of the counter, “You can order if you want.”

“What’d you get?”

“Medium black coffee?” Karl says, handing him a drink, “Oh, Dream!”

“You know each other?”

“We went to school together,” Karl said, “What’d you need, Dream?”

“Mango smoothie, thank you,” Dream hands Karl his card, “I don’t like coffee.”

George just nods, “I’m leaving.”

He didn’t feel bad. There was nothing in the world that would make him be even the tiniest bit nice to Dream— no matter what. George was well aware people didn’t think he was the nicest person. It hurt a little to be judged by people that didn’t know him, because George didn’t really think he was a bad person. He just was hot headed and was a fairly stubborn person as well. But despite all that, he was friendly with the people he was close with.

At one point he even had dated someone, a nice named Leo who had an even nicer smile. It was a good relationship, but George became too focused on figure skating and Leo didn’t particularly like it. One thing led to another, they fought and according to Leo, he was ‘bitchy’. George didn’t think much of it after that.

All his life was focused on figure skating, getting tricks down, keeping himself healthy and graceful, and repeating the same steps every day. He didn’t go off routine much, except the one time he was sick and was out for a week. 

The one thing that always stuck with him however, was Sapnap. He was there through his heartbreak after Leo dumped him, he was there when his parents were at their worst. Their friendship was strong, they had been friends since primary school when George’s parents packed everything up and moved them to the states.

He apparently had better opportunities in America, his parents heard it from his older coach back in England. So without a goodbye, he left his life behind in London and moved to America.

George decided that he should go back to the apartment, by now Sapnap had to be awake and he didn’t want his friend to worry too much about him. After all, he really wasn’t supposed to put too much work on his leg for at least five days. 

“George! Wait,” a voice calls behind him, without a warning someone trips next to him. George jumps and looks to the side to see Dream panting, trying to catch his breath, “Listen, just wait. I know you don’t like me but just give me a second.”

George raises his eyebrows, “I don’t have all day,” he replies pointedly, “But continue.”

Dream regains his breath and smiles slightly, “Okay. Listen, I’m sorry. It was fucked up to give into pressure and make you injure yourself.”

“Are you actually sorry? Or are you only apologizing because you can’t stand someone being mad at you?” George questions, “You know, I’m not a bad person. I’m not, but that doesn’t mean that I have to like someone. Especially when they purposely do something to mess me up.”

“No, I’m actually sorry,” Dream sighs, “Please, I really am. It’s been bugging me! Like my hockey buddies always bombard me because I’m not like— all like them I guess? After I came out I guess they saw me as less.”

Despite his dislike for Dream, George listens intently, trying to piece together what he was getting at, “They bother you because you’re not straight?”

“Well, kinda,” Dream rubs the back of his neck, “They don’t like— outwardly make comments on my sexuality but they used to be really… I don’t know— they looked up to me.”

“And now they don’t?”

“Yeah, it’s been like three years,” Dream looks down, “Look— what I’m trying to say is they were pressuring me, and I wrongfully gave into the peer pressure and I’m really sorry, George.”

“I’ll think about it,” George says, “I’m still annoyed with you, but I get where you’re coming from with people not accepting you and treating you as a person.”

He didn’t really know where to go from there, on one hand he was thankful that Dream seemed so honest with his apology, but on the other hand he didn’t trust that Dream wanted to apologize because he was sorry. They contradicted each other, but George had to put more thought into it.

“Thank you, I’m not like begging for you to forgive me. I just wanted to apologize,” Dream said, “But I’ll leave you alone now.”

George nods, “Okay, uh, see you.” 

——

The apology follows him home, all the way to the front door of his apartment. It wasn’t unusual for people to apologize to him, he’s been wronged a lot. Half the time the promises and the apologies fall through.

His life wasn’t bad, not by any means. He was well off and his parents weren’t— they weren’t  _ terrible  _ people. They just were obsessed with him being the best, and he couldn’t blame them for it.

Sapnap opened the door before he could put the key on, smiling in relief when he saw his best friend. 

“God, I didn’t even see your note until like five minutes ago, I called you line seven times and you didn’t answer!” Sapnap complains, “You’re an idiot, like the biggest idiot I’ve ever met. Don’t you want to give my poor heart a rest once and awhile?”

“It’s not my fault you’re practically tracking my heels since I’ve gotten injured,” George laughs lightly, “Really, I’m fine.”

“I say we go out to eat tonight, you know now that you’re finally leaving the house and such,” Sapnap said, “I’m not sure where to go though.”

“Ah,” George coughs, “I don’t feel like going out again. And I’m not that hungry.”

“What did your parents say to you?”

“Nothing to do with them, I’ve just been exhausted recently, I’m not used to being home all the time,” George replies. He knows that Sapnap doesn’t buy it, but he shrugs nonetheless and collapses on the couch.

“Okay, you’re on dinner duty then,” Sapnap stretches his body, “Also, my job gave me a fucking promotion today, I went from the guy who sits behind the computer all day to the manager, which means better hours and I get to attend meetings and give ideas for any software programming ideas I have.”

“That’s great!” George smiles, “You’ve worked so hard, I’ll make your favorite tonight, how about that?” 

“Gogy!” Sapnap cheered, “You’re the best, I love you.”

“Oh shut up,” George rolled his eyes, “Stop using that stupid nickname too, it’s terrible.”

“You love it,” Sapnap teased, “Oh Gogy, my Gogy.” 

Sapnap jumps up and George dodged the younger’s

attempt to hug him, “Sapnap leave me alone!” George shouts, “You’re still acting like a baby!”

“I am a baby, Georgie, I can’t help it,” Sapnap finally grabs George and hugs him dramatically, “You never hug me anymore, you always gave me hugs when you were younger.”

“I don’t like affection,” George rolled his eyes and nudged Sapnap, “Sapnap! Off!”

“Just one hug, please?” Sapnap poked him, “Just one more?”

George closes his eyes, “Will you leave me be?”

“Yes!” Sapnap stands up straight and let’s him go, “I promise!”

“Okay, just one hug,” George holds his arms out and Sapnap immediately envelopes him in a giant hug.

“I miss this,” Sapnap says, “You’re so distant nowadays. I miss when you would cuddle and watch movies with me, just like in high school.”

“I’m grown up now,” George replied, “So I don’t really see the need for it.”

“You’re literally like, the same age as me, but whatever,” Sapnap squeezes him, “Even though you’re older you’re still so tiny.”

“Okay, hug over,” George pulls away and pats Sapnap’s head, “I have a few workouts to do, so dinner will be in a few hours.”

Sapnap sighed, “Alright, captain.”

——

The days follow, and George has to meet up with his coach to discuss plans for when he gets back. In good news, he can’t feel the pain in his leg much anymore, but on bad news, he is incredibly anxious to start again. He’s been out for months before, but even then he was fine with starting up immediately.

So what was so different?

His coach meets him for lunch, it wasn’t too uncommon for him and the few other ice skaters to go to lunch to celebrate or talk about competitions and such. George sits down in front of his coach with a warm smile.

“Hey coach,” George greets, “So, do you think I can start up soon?”

“Of course, after your stitches are out I want to see how much you can do before we start working on the quad loop again,” his coach responded, “I don’t want to throw you right back in. You should get yourself warmed up on the ice before you get too crazy.”

“I get that, but,” George clears his throat, “How long before I can start again? Grand Prix is only a few months away and I want to get the move down as much as I can— I mean my parents are expecting a lot from me and I don’t want to disappoint-“

“George, it’ll only be a few practices,” his coach cut him off slightly, “I’ve said this a million times before, but you are your own person, your parents can affect the way you perform, but in the end do it for you and only you.”

“I know,” George responds softly, “They’re on my back again, like when I was sixteen. But this isn’t as serious as it was back then. They’re just constantly— I don’t know.”

“Well, don’t worry about that, I’ll help you out okay? I’ve been your coach since you were nine, I’ve watched you grow up,” he said, “You’re one of a kind, George. My best skater.”

“Thanks coach, I won’t disappoint you,” George said, “I’ll get to the olympics. I promise.”

“I know you will,” his coach pats the table with a smile.

For the rest of the meeting they go over skills, they talk about his schedule, and ways to improve while he gets back on his feet again. Briefly they talk about other things as well, not much other than family matters and how they’re both doing.

When it ends, his coach leaves first. George follows shortly after and sends a message to Sapnap to let him know he’s on his way home.

While on his walk, he admires the view a little. There wasn’t much other than people hustling around to get to work, children jumping around behind their parents, and a few teenagers acting like they’re middle schoolers.  _ Typical for this town.  _

George passes by a park, and he figured he’d rest a bit while around the area. He messages Sapnap to let him know that he would be a few minutes late. Today in particular was a little hot, he’s lucky that he decided to wear a t-shirt underneath his sweatshirt. Settling on a nearby bench, he begins to pull his hoodie over his head ( _ whilst failing to realize the newfound presence in front of him.) _

“George?” Dream’s voice said, “Hi?”

George jumps slightly and puts his hoodie on his lap, “Don’t sound too excited to see me.”

“I just didn’t expect you on this side of town,” Dream shrugged, “Is your leg better?”

“Yeah, it doesn’t hurt much anymore,” George responded, “But um, yeah I just was meeting with my coach. You know, discussing things and so on.”

“Right, right,” Dream awkwardly shifts, “Mind if I sit down?”

“Does it look like anyone else is sitting there?” George raised an eyebrow and motioned for him to sit, “Why are  _ you _ on this side of town.”

“Well I live in one of the apartments nearby, my parents actually just left this morning so I was going on a jog,” Dream said, “They were asking if I was in a relationship, if I found someone, how practice was going, you know the stuff.”

“Tell me about it,” George rested against the bench and looked up at the trees, “They expect me to get a girlfriend, but I don’t know how to tell them that being in a relationship is the least of my concerns at the moment.”

“Same, honestly,” Dream said, “I don’t really want to date anyone right now. I’m not completely opposed to it and of course I’ve been in a few in the past, but right now? Probably not.”

“Worst part is,” George laughs a little, “They don’t even know I’m gay.” 

“Oh, crap, really?” Dream said, “Sorry about that.”

“It’s fine, I mean of course they would care, they're hyper focused on me marrying a woman and having children and then continuing the legacy of figure skating,” George looked at Dream, “But they’d still love me. Just disappointed I suppose.”

“We don’t have to talk about this if you don’t want to,” Dream said, “We can talk about anything. Like— this park. It’s so beautiful, with the colorful flowers and the brightness of the trees and such? Is it not?”

“Well, to me it’s kinda dull,” George said, “I’m colorblind. So I can’t really see it.”

“I’m really talking about all the wrong things aren't I?” Dream rubs his neck, “What about school? Do you go to college or anything?”

“Not really,” George said, “I would but my parents want me to make a career out of skating so they don’t want me distracting by school again.”

“Bull,” Dream shrugged, “If you wanna go to school you should be allowed to.”

“It’s fine, I don’t really mind,” George sighed, “I get paid for skating at competitions and such. I’ve been doing it for years, I see myself doing it for a couple more anyways.” 

“Jeez, and you wanna go to the Olympics right?” Dream asked, “If I’m completely honest… I do hockey for fun. The olympics would be awesome but I don’t know if I for sure want to go? My team is all about it, but it’s kinda nerve wracking knowing the world is watching you.”

“I understand,” George said, “It’s not for everyone. But if you’re passionate, then go for it. Do it for yourself only.”

“I can say the same to you,” Dream said.

George supposed this moment isn't terrible. He didn’t know what it was about now that made it different from the rest. Dream was being friendly, just making conversation despite knowing George didn’t particularly like him. It was different in the sense that it wasn’t about figure skating or anything else really. Some parts were, but it wasn’t all about that. 

It felt normal. 

Maybe Dream wasn’t so bad after all.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you SO much for reading! Genuinely hope you loved this, it was slightly rushed and I’m sorry it’s a little short. I’ve got some personal things going on and it’s affecting my writing ability. 
> 
> Comments and kudos forever welcomed! I read all of the comments and reply :) they make me so happy genuinely. And of course, feedback on ice skating and input on how to improve forever welcomed!!! Please do so if you can help!!! <3


	3. The Ice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> George begins to think of the past as a way to cope with his decisions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CHAPTER THREE!!! Yooo
> 
> Thanks for all of the love on this fic, I genuinely didn’t expect it. It means so much to me that you guys are enjoying this!! I love all of the positive feedback.
> 
> I say this all the time, but feedback on figure skating and tips is always welcomed. It would mean the world to me :’).
> 
> Content warnings are small, just slight mentions of weight loss and of course, the overbearing parents. It’s hard to even understand where the parents are coming from— it’s totally okay to hate them.
> 
> I had fun writing this chapter! Although I still will say it’s not my best, I have a lot going on so please bare with me on any grammatical errors, spelling errors, etc. I’m also dyslexic so it might not be perfect at all.
> 
> I also made a playlist!!! Check it out!!!
> 
> [Vertigo the Playlist](https://open.spotify.com/user/xxxxxylzxx/playlist/0x8IzthS4JUsfAIRfzUb9g?si=D1_I7y_fRuayZ4bCDJJ1jQ)
> 
> I hope you all enjoy!!! Comments and kudos always appreciated :’) they truly make my dad.

If George could, he’d crawl into a hole and never come out. His body has been aching for the past few days, sometimes almost incapable of getting out of bed in the morning. He wasn’t quite sure what the main problem was, it could be his body protesting the lack of nutrition he’s been getting or his workouts being a majority of his day. Whatever it was, was practically making him feel like he was walking with death.

Sapnap had been working the past three days, so George didn’t really see him often other than at night when he’d come home and practically crash. 

He was due to get his stitches out tomorrow as well, which meant he would have to call his parents and discuss his schedule. George knew that no matter what, that instead of his usual weekend at ballet rehearsal, he’d most likely be cutting it short and going once a week instead of twice. 

George pushes himself up the best he can and trudged to his bathroom. His mirror did him no justice as he glared at his reflection, he honestly looked terrible. Eyebags and his face was significantly thinned out compared to two weeks ago. 

He didn’t really like losing weight. George wasn’t a fan of constantly being picked on for his size no matter who it was. He also didn’t believe that figure skaters had to be deathly thin to be considered good, most people in his age group weighed more than him, and his parents didn’t seem to understand that he was already underweight as is.

Deciding on a shower, he stripped himself and took a moment to weigh himself before getting in the shower. The scale wobbled a few times before settling right on 117 pounds. George takes a deep breath, he could just lie to his mother. He didn’t have to be truthful. 

His gut tugs at him a little bit, but he quickly shrugs it off and takes his shower before he can act upon anything else. 

George is finished with his shower when he can hear Sapnap’s keys clank on the counter and the fridge open. After changing he heads out to their living room area and welcomes Sapnap home.

“How was work?” George asked, resting his elbows on the counter, “Is that Stephanie girl still ordering you around?”

“Nah, she didn’t work today,” Sapnap shrugged, “Pretty sure I scared her off the other day when I said I was in charge of reports that go to boss man.”

“At least she won’t be a bother.”

“You can say that,” Sapnap said, “Want spaghetti tonight? I can make it.”

“I’m not really hungry,” George said, “I’ll probably have some later though?”

“Oh come on! You’re like a twig, you need to eat,” Sapnap rolled his eyes and shut the fridge, “Have you lost more weight?”

“Uh,” George stood up straight, “No? I don’t think so, I look the same.”

“You’re acting as though I haven’t been your best friend for ten years, I know when you’re lying,” Sapnap squints, “You need to stop letting your parents walk all over you.”

“You’re biased, you’ve never liked them?” George said, “As I always say, they’re doing what’s best for me.”

“I’m biased, definitely, but they treat you like a dog,” Sapnap said, “Teaching you shit and controlling you. When was the last time you went out? Like actually, and enjoyed yourself?”

George couldn’t answer that, he was busy with skating and practicing so much he rarely had the time to go out and make time for himself. Over half his life he’s never had more than one friend, nor had gone to any parties or talked to anyone but Sapnap in school. People of course didn’t want to talk to him anyways, they thought he was stuck up and rude. Which wasn’t the case, he used to have bad social anxiety and the only time he found peace was with skating. 

Sapnap didn’t really care that George couldn’t do much, he definitely had a lot of friends through school but George was the one person that he’d drop everything for. Their friendship was filled with them bullying each other and teasing, more so Sapnap being the one to start everything. 

Even with his busy schedule and so on, Sapnap didn’t care. He always took care of him even in the most difficult times of his life.

“I don’t know,” George said honestly, “But it doesn’t matter, I don’t have time, so it’s not like I could if I wanted.”

Sapnap nods, “I get that, I just want you to be happy.”

“I am happy, I promise,” George rolls his eyes, “Stop being cheesy.”

———

In the morning, George had gone back to the doctor and his stitches were removed and he was given instructions on how to care for it properly. The first thing he did when he got home was clean the wound and then quickly change into a comfortable outfit for skating.

Today would be his first day back on the ice, and his stomach felt as though it would be vomited up onto his floor. There was no reason to be as anxious as he was, it was just like normal. He was just skating, but he deep down hopes that the hockey players wouldn’t be there. It was almost embarrassing having to see the guys he screamed at after two weeks, let alone knowing that he threatened one of them as well.

They were all pretty tall and big guys, he was shocked that Dream was even a hockey player to begin with. Of course he was pretty muscular, but his body was fairly thin and his muscles looked lean if anything. Compared to the other guys, he looked like an odd one out.

“George are you ready to go?” Sapnap yelled at him, “You said you wanted a ride!”

George calls back to him and lets him know he’s coming, then grabs his skating bag and heads out to the living room.

“Calm down, I was getting my shoes on,” George nudged him, “But thanks for the ride, Sappy.”

“Stop calling me that, loser,” Sapnap poked his side and laughed, “You nervous to start up?”

“Yeah, I don’t know why,” George said honestly, “It will be fine though. Once I’m on the ice it’ll be okay.”

“Good, well not good you’re anxious but good that you think it’ll be okay, because I think so too.”

The drive to the ice rink is quiet for the most part, just listening to the sounds of Sapnap’s music. 

He sees his coach talking to another skater and he feels his nerves stack up again. His coach was obviously waiting for him.

When he waves goodbye to Sapnap he immediately heads over to his coach and greets him. His coach smiles then tells the other skater to go inside, turning his full attention to George.

“Welcome back, George,” he says, “Remember, today we’re just getting you warmed up again. Don’t feel pressured to jump into your more difficult skills right away, and then in a few weeks we can start working on that quad loop okay?”

George nods, “Yes, coach.”

His coach holds the door open for him as they both enter. George looks around, seeing the hockey players goof around and punch each other when George walks in. His stomach twists with anxiety already, but he does his best to ignore their glares. 

He doesn’t see Dream either, which makes him slightly confused. But he looks back to the rink and sees his other mates on the ice skating around and working on tricks, one that hasn’t gone on the ice yet greets him happily. She’s a younger skater, if George can recall only about thirteen.

“It’s good to see you again, George!” she says happily, “We’ve all been sad without you around.”

“Glad to be back,” George smiles softly, “Have you gotten your double axel?”

“I’m so close!” she claps, “Coach told me I can probably stick it by the end of the week.”

“That’s awesome,” George responds, “Keep at it, you’re already a wonderful skater.”

“Thank you, George!” she steps onto the ice now and takes off, most likely to go talk to other skaters. While George gets his skates on, he hears a couple of guys behind him laughing with each other. One of them sounds a lot like Dream, so he looks behind him slightly.

Dream is walking with a couple of his hockey buddies, chatting about something George can’t pick up. He looks back to his skates and finishes lacing them up.

“Are you ready to skate again?” Dream’s voice comes from nowhere, practically making him jump out of his skin. 

George looks behind him, “Uh, yeah.”

“You get your stitches out?”

“Got them out this morning,” George said, “Did you already practice?”

“Yeah, we’re just waiting till the figure skaters are done to continue practice,” Dream said.

George nods, then stands himself up and sighs, “I have to get to practicing, but see you later.” 

He slides off the blade protectors and opens the gate to the rink, stepping on the ice. George looks at the three others on the rink. A pit forms in his stomach, he felt anxious with all the hockey boys being there and watching him again. It felt disheartening to know that they probably were still the assholes Dream explained them to be. 

He only goes through the routine, nor outwardly performing it or doing tricks. His legs feel shaky, the longer he skates however, the most comfortable he gets with being on the ice. By now the other skaters have taken a break for their lunch, but since George was late he supposed he'd just take it later. 

George manages to get a couple of his spins down, including his camel spin and sit spin. He can see his coach watching and writing things down on his clipboard. 

When he finally takes a breather, he skates towards the opening of the rink and his coach greets him there.

“You’re going just fine for your comeback, you may be able to start doing loops and axels if you keep it up,” his Coach said, “Have you given your parents a call yet?”

“No, I don’t know if I’m ready for that,” George responds, slightly sheepish, “They’ll just up my practice time at the rink. I need to get in hours for my ballet as well, but knowing them they’ll probably deduct it.”

“Yeah, parents are like that, but keep in mind that no matter how little or how much you practice, it only matters about the effort and dedication you put into trying,” his coach opens the rink door for him and hands him the blade caps, “Give them a call. Don’t be too afraid to make yourself known, after all you know yourself best.”

George nods, then walks to the bench to pull out his phone. He undoes his skates and excuses himself into the locker room. Thankfully it’s empty, so George sits on one of the nearby benches. Nerves wrack through him as he types his mother’s phone number, already knowing how the conversation will go.

_ “George?”  _ his mother says, “Did you get your stitches out?”

“Yes, this morning,” George said, “I’m back to practicing.”

He made the waking decision to not tell his mother he was already at practice, not wanting to anger her for wasting time where he could be practicing. George shuffles his feet a little while he hears his mom ruffle things in the background. 

“Okay, I want you practicing six days a week instead,” she says, “It’ll be better for you. Instead of two days of ballet you’ll only have one.”

“I need the ballet lessons though, it keeps me flexible and helps me improve my skills,” George says, “It would just throw off my—“

“Don’t speak to me like that, this is honestly better, I know tons of kids who practice their sport six days a week,” George can practically hear her shrug behind the phone, “It’s for the better.”

“Yeah but those kids don’t practice fifty hours a week,” George said, “They practice forty or less.”

“Are you talking back?” his mother hums, “I thought you would rather call me because I am more lenient with you. If it was your dad you’d not speak to him like that.”

George quiets down and sighs, looking at the ceiling of the locker room. He waits for his mother to finish whatever she’s typing.

“Okay, I sent your new schedule over to you, give it to your coach so he can talk about it with you as well,” she feigns happiness behind the phone, “Bye son, I’ll message you later to chat.”

“I love you,” George says, but the line goes dead before she can even hear him say it. 

George sighed, sinking onto the floor to rest against the lockers. He looks up to the light, vividly remembering when he was younger and being in here.

-

_ His mother stands tall, right next to her husband as George attempts a new skill. Her hands are folded and she’s looking intently at him skating.  _

_ Meanwhile the other skaters he practices with are watching him with smiles on their faces. _

_ George was going through his free skate and finally incorporating his double axel into the skate, something that he had worked on for the past few months. He was more than ready for it, and he wanted to make his parents proud. _

_ His approach was great, and he went for it— George closed his eyes and waited for the twists to finish and then he landed the axel almost perfectly. George smiled brightly when he saw his coach clap and holler at him.  _

_ When he finished his free skate he sped to the side of the rink and his coach patted his head, “Beautiful job, George!” _

_ “Thank you, coach!” George grinned, “Mon, dad, did you see that?” _

_ His mother smiled bitterly, “It was almost perfect.” _

_ “Well, doesn’t it matter that I still got it?” _

_ George was fifteen. He learned then it was going to be impossible to ever please his parents, even if he managed to finally get a skill they had been on his ass about. So he excused himself and quickly got his blade covers on and rushed into the locker room.  _

_ His body collapses against the lockers and he covers his face, the threat of crying is thick in his throat. The locker room is cold, the fluorescent lighting and the faint buzzing of the AC is heavy in the room. George falls to the ground and wraps his arms around his legs to shield his face while he cries.  _

_ While growing up he was taught to not cry where people can see him, that crying was a sign of weakness. He grew up hating to cry, never crying in front of people, and hiding away in his room. George constantly waited for the day he’d move out with Sapnap and his parents would no longer become unbearable with their condescending nature. _

_ However, the older he got the more his parents strived for him to get harder skills down. His coach had constantly reminded them that some skills were tricky to learn no matter how easy they looked. _

_ It never was peaceful, no matter how much George tried to be the best for them. _

_ — _

George cringed at the memory, he had been so happy to get his double axel only to be shot down by his mother immediately.

He can hear the door to the locker room open and he stands up quickly. George hadn’t even realized he was crying until he rubbed his face.

“Shit,” he mumbled, he turned his body to face the lockers and attempted to dry his face with his sleeve. He could pass the red eyes off for rubbing them too much. 

“Hey, it’s that pretty skater boy,” a guy laughs, “I saw Dream talking to you, what’s that about?”

George whips his head to see two hockey guys standing by the other side of the lockers, he rolls his eyes, “What’s it to you?”

“You know Dream doesn’t care right?” one of them said, “If he’s being nice it’s because he just wants to get in your pants.”

His body tensed, “Why should I listen to a couple of assholes?”

“Because we know Dream better than you,” the other guy says, “We know his little antics. He’s just the type of guy who does that, we’re only warning you.”

“You’re not saying this because of other reasons?” George scoffs, remembering that Dream did say they treated him differently because of his sexuality, “Isn’t your practice over? Why are you two even still here?”

“We like watching the figure skaters, they’re so pretty to watch,” one smirks, “Especially you.”

George flushes embarrassingly, “You're disgusting.”

“Listen, pretty boy, we’re not trying anything with you, just take our words for the truth, he calls you pet names and acts all friendly then boom,” he mimics a mic drop, “He sleeps with you and then never talks to you again.”

He looks away, his heart plummeting, “Just stop, I need to get back to practice so if you two could get out of my way.” 

George brushes past them, his head hanging low when one of them grabs his arm, “Listen to us.”

“Get your hands off of me,” George rips his arm away, and opens the door.

Before he can be out of earshot, one then yells out to him, “You‘re such a bitch!”

He doesn’t care. It’s not like he isn’t used to being called rude, a bitch, or any other name because he doesn’t like people who think they’re all that. George especially hates assholes who try to speak over him or make him feel inferior.

That doesn’t stop the onslaught of thoughts that take his mind about Dream though, the fact that he probably didn’t really want to be friends. He didn’t even know if he fully trusted Dream either, nor the guys in the locker room. 

All he knows is that he shouldn’t trust anyone, nor try to make any new friends. George didn’t need anyone else, he just needed himself and Sapnap.

He didn’t have time to dedicate to new people, so he takes the words given to him into thought and decides it best to just stick to not trusting Dream at all. 

George is greeted by his coach and asks if the conversation with his parents went well. He simply shrugs and talks to him about schedule changes. Despite being reluctant, George reminds him that it had to happen no matter what. 

So his coach sighs and adds his schedule into his events calendar, “I’ll try to make it easy on you, okay? You’re still healing up. I don’t want you to overwork yourself.”

“Yeah,” George laughs softly, “It’s fine, I mean I need to get the quad loop down before my next competition.”

“And you have months to get it down, you’re close already you just need more momentum, but there’s no doubt to me you won’t get it,” his coach grinned brightly, “You're a talented skater, you tend to catch onto skills faster. No matter how little or how much you’ll train you’ll still do your best. I have faith in you.”

George smiles, “Thanks coach.”

——

Within the following weeks it’s already back to normal, except he feels significant exhaustion from his schedule change. He’s done more than fifty hours before, but not consistently. It felt tiring to have to spend so much time at the rink and not doing his normal workouts and training from home.

“Dude, you’re like a walking zombie,” Sapnap says, opening the door to their apartment and shutting it. George takes off his shoes and rests against the wall next to him.

“It’s fine,” George waves off, “I’m just not used to the schedule yet.”

“Your parents are ridiculous,” Sapnap rolls his eyes, “Sixty hours a week? What is this, a full time job plus overtime?”

“Sapnap, I skate competitively, it basically is a full time job,” George teases, “I’ll be fine.”

Sapnap rolls his eyes, “Yeah, sure. I’ll make dinner. You rest up, and don’t even think about skipping dinner tonight.”

George smiles, “Wasn’t planning on it, mom.”

The two laugh a bit, and George goes to their couch to lay on it and rest his eyes. His rest is cut off by his phone pinging, and George lifts his phone to check who had texted him.

_ Unknown Number  
_ _ Maybe: Dream _

**_hi george 😅 it’s dream, don’t be too mad at me, i got your number from karl_ **

George glares at the text message, then typed out a response.

_ To: Dream _

**_And why do you need my number?_ **

**_What do you want from me?_ **

The next text pops up seconds later,

_ Dream _

**_can’t a guy message another?_ **

**_but rlly i think we should be friends :)_ **

George thinks back to the guys in the locker rooms then back to Leo, then goes through any possible situations in his head before responding.

_ To: Dream _

**_No._ **

_ Dream _

**_no?_ **

_ To: Dream _

**_I don’t have time for friends. Sorry._ **

It’s quiet for a while. George closes his eyes, it was rude, but he doesn’t want to risk anything. If his teammates were right, he didn’t want to be tricked. If they weren’t, he didn’t want to risk Dream realizing that he has no time for him and then eventually just drop him as a friend. Just like Leo did, except they were dating.

All his firsts went to Leo, and when Leo realized that he was dead focused on skating and had a busy schedule, he was dumped on their one year anniversary. George had loved him, deeply, and part of him missed Leo and all the times they spent together. 

Even if his parents didn’t know about their relationship, they still liked Leo as a person. They thought he was a good role model or whatever because he was going to go to school to be a doctor.

They were sixteen, stupid, and found themselves lost within each other. George had deeply connected to Leo and did anything to make him happy— but things fell through his fingers like water. George had lost him and ended up heartbroken.

He doesn’t want to be friends with Dream only to get dropped again. The only person George could ever trust with his entire body is Sapnap, no one else. So no, he didn’t have time for friends to relationships, he just couldn’t commit to that.

_ Dream _

_  
_ **_ok, sorry for asking._ **

_ To: Dream _

**_It’s better this way._ **

He rolls onto his side and drops his phone on the carpet, curling up and not bothering to converse with Dream anymore. George still didn’t even know if he liked Dream, there was a heavy vendetta in his mind he held against him for causing such an abrupt change in his life. Plus all of the time Dream was a huge asshole to him.

It was just for the best. 

George didn’t have time for friends, he didn’t have time for anything really. It was just how his life was meant to be. 

Lonely.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for reading! Theories, help on figure skating, etc, etc, always welcomed! Even just the smallest feedback helps a ton ❤️
> 
> Have a wonderful day or night! You are all amazing <3


	4. Downfall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Frustration builds up, misunderstandings happen, and mistakes are made.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 4?? Wtf!!!
> 
> I really didn’t expect to release chapter four already, but I think I’ve been using writing as a distraction because of other things going on in my life... and it lead to this being a particularly heartbreaking chapter so just be prepared.
> 
> CW for overbearing parents, flashback of past bullying (even if george says it isn’t), fighting. 
> 
> This chapter really focuses on George’s emotions, I will say. Especially since I have been sad writing I’ve incorporated a bit of more angst than I thought— but I promise it’ll be okay soon!! George is independent and strong he’ll be okay :’) we gotta love George in this. 
> 
> I’m very sorry for the angst once more

George analyzed a popular figure skating video closely, one that had some of his tricks incorporated into it that is. He found himself envious of the skater almost, they seemed to so effortlessly move around the ice. When he would watch his own performances, he’d pick out the smallest details on what he could’ve done better. Despite being considered the best to his Coach, George often picked at himself when he felt he wasn’t doing the best he could.

Needless to say, George wasn’t too fond all the time with his abilities. Even going as far as comparing himself to the younger skaters. No matter how much anyone who supported him reminded him, he still was inclined to believe that there was  _ something  _ he could be doing better. At all times, too. Even when he was in school with great grades, he still believed he could’ve done something to do better.

Sapnap out of everyone was the one who always got frustrated with George, never understanding how someone who was very well off with his golds was so picky about his performances. Never quite understanding the basics of ice skating, George would always have to re-explain to Sapnap as if it would help any further.

George drops his phone on the bed next to him, allowing himself to just stare at his ceiling in self pity. A long day of practice was ahead of him, and he mentally and physically felt drained. He knows he could easily message his coach and tell him he wasn’t feeling well— but being as stubborn as he was he wouldn’t give himself a break until he collapsed.

“George?” Sapnap said, “I'm heading to work, will you be okay getting to practice by bike?”

“Yeah that’s fine,” George turned his head to his best friend, “I'll see you later?”

“Yeah, and what time are you getting home?” Sapnap questioned, “You wanna watch a movie?”

“Um, probably around eight?” George looked at his clock on the nightstand, “Sure, I miss spending time with you anyways.”

Sapnap smiles, “See you later, man. Don’t overwork yourself.”

_ As if I’m already not,  _ but George rolls his eyes, “Right, be safe.”

Sapnap closed his door and then he could hear him exit the apartment. He sits up and sighs, then decides he should probably get ready for practice.

He gets to the rink around 11 am, greeting a few of the other skaters as he walks in and chats with them. George looks at the rink, watching all of the hockey guys laugh while waiting for them to start up practice again. One of the skaters rolls his eyes.

“I hate hockey players, they act like they’re better than anyone,” he says, “That one guy who fucked you over, he is the worst.”

“How so?” George asks, because he can recall Dream was at least nice to him outside of the rink. But still, it intrigues him.

“Just obnoxious, you know?” he shrugs, “He boasted about getting you injured after it happened. When you left? Like he laughed about it with his buddies.”

That ignites a small fire in George’s chest. Of course, the douchebag wasn’t actually sorry. Ever since he apologized, George knew he’d not trust the ‘heartfelt’ apology that was given. Even if George had doubts about Dream actually being an asshole at some point, he still felt stupid.

“Of course he did,” George scoffed, “Whatever, let’s just go do warmups. If they ever bother you just let me know.”

The other skater nods, then walks off to meet up with one of his pals. George spares one last glance to the rink and grips his bag rather tightly, peeved that the guys from the other day were probably right about Dream. 

It didn’t matter though, he wasn’t going to waste his time on people that didn’t matter to him. 

During the stretches, he had put his earbuds in to block the sound surrounding him. He liked peace when he was stretching, and didn’t want to hear the screaming and curses coming from the hockey players mouth disrupting him.

It wasn’t always like this, the hockey player’s used to have their own rink until it was ruined in a storm— struck by lightning— which was very unfortunate but luckily Mr. Kingsley offered them a place to practice with open arms. The other rink wouldn’t be finished for another year, so it was a hassle having to wait hours and practice outside the rink while the hockey players practiced. 

George never took it upon himself to talk to any of them, mostly straying away from the rambunctiously loud players and assholes that were on the team. Thankfully, for the most part they left the skaters alone as well.

He’s laying on his stomach in a straddle when someone taps his shoulder. Sitting up, he looks behind him to see a couple of hockey players behind him with cocky grins on their faces.

“The rinks all yours, princess.”

George pushes himself up, but before he could do anything a girl grabs his arm and holds him back. He squints his eyes, “I don’t know why you hockey players have such an obsession with me, but I suggest you leave me alone. In fact, leave my whole team alone before I find a way to cas—“

“Okay!” the girl says, effectively cutting him off, “George, why don’t you go get your skates on?”

The guys laugh and just wink at him before disappearing into their respective locker room. George feels his veins burn. He goes after them but the girl steps in front of him, stopping him in his tracks.

“Let’s not worry about those assholes, they’re doing this to get a rise out of you since they know you’ll just fire back at them,” she says, “They’re only going to be the same. They get off to you not taking their shit.”

She looks back at the locker room doors, “And between you and me, I really don’t think they have anything better to do than bother us.”

George knows she’s right—  _ Grace?  _ He thinks, but it doesn’t matter. All George knows is that the hockey players are some of the most  _ insufferable  _ douchebags that he has ever come across.

It’s another thirty minutes before the skaters can actually get on the ice, and by the time George is sitting and waiting on the bench for a few other skaters to finish warm ups the hockey players are making themselves comfortable on their side.

His coach is watching the skaters work on their tricks absentmindedly, today was the day he was finally getting into doing his more difficult tricks. It was way less nerve wracking than he thought— minus the fact the hockey players were probably going to be watching his every move.

George finally was given the chance to practice his free skate again, his coach giving him the okay while his mates got water and relaxed a bit. He had the rink to himself, it wasn’t like he wasn’t used to it.

Today the rink looked bare, the shining ice reflected the light onto him, not enough to blind or throw him off. He pushed himself from the edge, warming himself up by skating around the rink. He incorporated small things such as an axel and a double lutz into his warm up— just to get the feel of his routine again. 

When he skates to the middle, his stomach is already twisting with the anxiety that the guys watching him were going to throw him off guard again. But he noticed his coach eyeing them momentarily, before finally giving him the thumbs up to start his routine. 

His body moves easily, the routine flowing back into his mind and taking over. George gracefully pushes himself around the rink. In his mind it pondered the thought of going for the quad loop, as he had been warming up towards it the past three weeks. He made it through his simpler tricks, ones he knew he had down. 

As he approached his triple axel, he immediately decided against it and began to start a different approach, the approach to his quad loop. He has to get it just right, or he’d not get enough power to execute the jump thoroughly. When he believes he’s ready, he jumps off the toe pick and starts his revolutions— it happens fads and George is landing on his opposite foot. 

He barely recognizes he’s actually stuck the landing before he hears his fellow skaters clap— George slows down on the rink and presses his hands into his face to cover his smile. In any other situation his coach would scold him for stopping mid-routine, but he just calls George over with a grin on his face.

“I was going to pick at you for skipping the triple axel, but now I’ve just got no words!” his coach grinned, George gets out of the rink and a bunch of the skaters begin to hug him.

“You did so good, George!” Grace said, “I wanna be just like you!”

George laughed softly, “I think I’ll need to practice it a bit more— it kinda came from nowhere and I think I could execute it better, but I still landed it!”

His coach nods in agreement, “You should let your parents know you fully executed the loop, though, in your routine without falling. I’m sure they’ll be happy for you.”

There’s no reason they wouldn’t— they probably hadn’t even expected him to attempt his difficult skills yet. So he takes the opportunity to take off his skates and step outside for a second, just to call them and let them know— he momentarily felt happy. 

It rings a few times before his father answers, “Son? Do you need something?”

“No, no, I just wanna tell you and Mom something—“ George said, “It’s about my routine today.”

He can hear his mom speak into the phone, “You best not tell us you’re injured again.”

His smile falters a bit, but he quickly shakes it off, “No, it’s not that.”

“Then what is it?”

“Today during my routine I landed my quad loop,” George grinned excitedly, even if his parents couldn’t see, “Isn’t that a good thing— I just went—“

“Aren’t you supposed to already have that down?” his mother says, seemingly unimpressed, “You told us two months ago you were beginning to work on it, and said you’ve landed it when I’ve asked you.”

“Yeah but—“ George whispers, “It wasn’t part of my routine today— I had only slightly warmed up for it the past few practices because my coach didn’t want me to—“

“George, listen, baby, you’ve been practicing it for months now, and we were already aware you’ve gotten it,” his mother says, her voice feigning sympathy.

“You know what?” George said, “You guys are never proud of me. No matter what, it’s always something that you two can pick apart that I’m not doing good enough—“

He chokes up slightly, “I’m sick of it. You two can never be happy for me, you can never just say  _ ‘I love you son, good job’  _ or anything. My weight, my tricks, my everything just can’t please you—“

“George Davidson!” his father snaps, “We taught you better etiquette than what you just pulled there. We are your  _ parents  _ not your friends, we do this because we want you to be better.”

“Well, you don’t even say you love me anymore,” George whispers, “So are you doing this because I’m your son, or the fact you want me to be anything but your son?”

He hangs up the phone and almost throws it to the concrete, but rejects it and presses his palms into his eyes to stop any tears of frustration. George feels stupid for ever thinking they would tell him they’re proud of him. Not once since he was a young child has he heard that come from their mouths. Even when he won the golds, it was always picking at things he could’ve done to get a higher score. 

The door opens slightly behind him, “George?”

It’s Dream— of all people it was  _ Dream. _

“What do you want?” George whipped his head toward him and refrained himself from rolling his eyes.

“Your teammates were wondering what was taking you so long so I snuck out to see if you were okay,” Dream looks nervous almost. But George really didn’t care _ — he didn’t like Dream. _

“What’s it to you?” George says, “You fuck up my leg, you give me a shitty apology that you  _ clearly  _ didn’t mean! Then you have the audacity to ask to be friends for what reason? You want to just get in my pants?”

Dream started to speak but was immediately cut off when George started speaking again, “Don't get me started, Dream. I had to find out from a fifteen year old that you were fucking boasting about getting me injured. You have no right to even try and enter  _ my  _ life, because I don’t want you in it!”

“What the hell?” Dream defended, “When the hell did I ever boast about getting you hurt? Your teammate was probably lying to get you to stay away from us if anything!”

“Oh, of course, trying to tell me a fifteen year old would fucking lie to someone he looks up to?” George said, “I don’t trust you, I don’t trust your teammates, I don’t give a fuck about your sport— and you should stop worrying about  _ me  _ because we are never going to be friends.”

George swings the opposite door to the rink open and storms inside, when Dream grabs his arm George tries to pull it away but Dream grabs his other wrist, fully restraining him in his place.

“You know what George?” he says, “You are a bitch. No matter what no one can ever please you, you're so full of yourself that you don’t even give people a chance. Try to be a little more of a decent human than a cold hearted bitch.”

His arms are let go and Dream storms his way back inside and collapses on the benches next to his teammates. A few of them look at George behind the glass doors.

If he was honest he wouldn’t be surprised if anyone saw Dream manhandle him just to call him a bitch. 

His coach asks how it went, but he simply brushes it off with a feign smile and starts to get his skates back on. 

The rest of practice is a blur, including his lunch break (which consisted of a plain bagel and a fruit bowl), and by the end of it he felt tired. It could’ve been from the previous misfortunes earlier but George was forever thankful that the hockey players leave two hours before them.

By the time he gets home and to the front door, he already feels the exhaustion catch up with him. Sapnap opens the door before he can even get his key in and furrows his eyebrows, “Holy shit, man are you okay?”

“I’m fine, don’t worry,” George says, he walks into the apartment and tosses his skating bag by the door, “You make dinner?”

“Yeah it’s cooking, but are you sure?” Sapnap said, “You look tired, like you just went through hell and back.”

“It’s nothing,” George looked away, “Let’s just pick out a movie okay?”

Sapnap doesn’t try to push any further. He knows that George won’t speak about something unless he really wants to, so he just goes back to the kitchen.

“Anything you’d like,” Sapnap responded, taking the pot off the stove setting it on a towel.

It’s quiet for a bit, and then Sapnap comes and sits down next to him with two bowls of some soup he always makes— George takes it gratefully and leans into the couch.

“Studio Ghibli?” Sapnap suggested, George nods in agreement.

They decide on Kiki’s Delivery Service, a movie they always watched back in high school. George felt too tired to even finish his soup, so he just set it down on the coffee table and laid his head back. 

He didn’t realize he fell asleep until he woke up, he’s laying on his bed with a blanket over him. George stretched his limbs a little bit. His mind is overflowing with thoughts, but the one that sticks out the most was his small blow up on his parents. In a way he felt bad about it, but he couldn’t stand being told off or belittled any longer.

Then to Dream, who he actually blew up at because of frustration and pettiness. It wasn’t that much of a regret to George, to him Dream definitely deserved it. But he wouldn’t deny being called cold hearted didn’t hurt. Because he wasn’t cold hearted, at least he didn’t think so. He was friendly to all of his skating pals and he never was really rude to anyone outside of that either.

Except maybe the hockey players. They were an exception to him— they deserved it. George knew that in high school he was seen as an asshole for turning down any girl that tried to confess to him, or anyone who tried to be friends with him too— it got him into a lot of trouble. High school wasn’t particularly the greatest time of his life. He wasn’t bullied or anything, but people weren’t  _ nice  _ to him. 

—

_ Sapnap had already headed to class, so George was left to walk alone to his free period. He’d probably spend it in the courtyard or the library, reading about figure skating and such. _

_ When he gets to the library he checks out a book on figure skating. It’s about how to improve and such— not that he didn’t think he was a decent skater, it was just to pass time. _

_ He sits on the cafeteria table that’s in the courtyard, flipping through the pages and taking down notes. _

_ George can hardly recognize when someone comes up to him before his notebook is grabbed by a hand and he’s tugged from his seat. _

_ “Hey, Georgie,” a huskier voice said— his name was Alan if George could recall, and then the one holding his book was Marco. _

_ “What do you guys want?” George said, trying to pull away from Alan’s grasp.  _

_ “We’re just bored, free periods are boring you know?” Marco said, looking through his journal, “Jesus, is all you do is fucking study skating?” _

_ “Give it back,” George said, “It’s important to me—“ _

_ That was a mistake. Marco hums and closes the notebook, seemingly holding it out for George to grab. Alan let’s go of his arms, but as soon as he goes to grab it Marco immediately pulls back. Alan knocks him down into the concrete (ultimately making him scrape his hands and knees). _

_ George feels his body shake, “What the fuck is wrong with you two?” _

_ He pushes himself up and goes to potentially harm Marco if it wasn’t for Alan tugging on the back of his crewneck roughly.  _

_ “You think you’re so tough don’t you, George?” Alan says, “In reality you’re nothing but a bitch, you think you’re all that turning all those girls down and not talking to anyone. Your parents being so rich you think you can’t have the decency to at least be a good person?” _

_ That wasn’t true, George had immediately thought, it wasn’t that he didn’t want to talk to other people he just didn’t see the need to. He wasn’t interested in girls because well— he didn’t even like girls. _

_ “Why do you guys care so much?” _

_ “Because we know you George, you think you’re perfect and too good for everyone else, just like how your parents are wealthy and selfish— don’t you think it’s a common trait running in the family?” Marco said, “Being cold hearted, being stuck up, and being so bitchy that you can’t even spare a glance to another person?” _

_ Alan laughs, “That’s why you’ve got no one, George. No one here likes you except that guy Sapnap, but I’m sure even he doesn’t like you.” _

_ George rips himself away from Alan’s grasp and grabs the library book on the cafeteria table. He can feel the frustration build up inside of him, if he doesn’t get himself to calm down from the anger he’ll probably cry— not because they hurt his feelings but because he’s never learnt to control his anger very well. _

_ But Marco keeps on holding the notebook well above his head to where he can’t reach. _

_ “Marco, just give me my notebook back,” George said. Not only did it have figure skating notes in it— but it also had really personal things that he didn’t want to share with anyone else. _

_ It wasn’t until someone from behind Marco grabbed the notebook and scoffed, “Marco, Alan, what the hell are you two doing?” _

_ The two of them tensed, looking at the new found arrival. George couldn’t quite pinpoint who this guy was.  _

_ “You two wanna torment a classmate of yours or do you want to run three extra laps at practice today?” the guy said, “Beat it.” _

_ The two of them quickly rushed off and the tall guy just rolled his eyes. Admittedly, to George at least, he was attractive. He has dark brown eyes and dark brown hair, his skin fairly paleish with a naturally blushed complex. _

_ “I—“ George tried, “Um, thank you.” _

_ “Don’t sweat it,” he said, “Here’s your notebook. Sorry those assholes were bothering you.” _

_ George found himself feeling calm, like the anger inside of him drifted away. He carefully took the notebook back and looked down, “Thanks.” _

_ “I’m Leo by the way,” he said, “You’re George right? I think we have a science class together.” _

_ “Yeah… that’s me,” George smiled lightly, “Um, nice to meet you.” _

_ —— _

The memory was the first time he and Leo had ever met, the tall and sweet guy that Leo slowly had become one of his good friends. It wasn’t until they were sixteen almost that they started dating.

Leo was a year ahead of him, and was a track star. He had given it up after he decided to be a doctor. 

After graduation was when they fell apart, George’s schedule was filled and there was no way to make much time for a relationship. He didn’t blame Leo for being mad at him, or any of that. George didn’t blame him when they broke up— after all it had been his fault for not being able to make time.

He gets out of his bed and rubs his face. There wasn’t much to do, George assumed it was around three am at the latest. So he just decided on showering, it wasn’t too horrible of an idea and he didn’t shower after practice— so it worked out. 

The bright light almost blinds him, but he shakes himself out and takes a glance in the mirror. He can see clearly why Sapnap had been so worried earlier. He looked exhausted, even more than he had a few weeks ago. 

When he showers, he ponders his routine, he wonders if his parents will pay him and visit any time soon to scold him or if they were going to ignore him for days like they do sometimes.

He also thinks back to Dream again, growing annoyed that he can’t get the thought of him insulting him so harshly, even if George knew that he had to let out his anger on the hockey player at some point.

Maybe it was his parents, after all they were overbearing and closed off from anything else. He never really learned how to make friends or approach people, not that he was shy but because his parents had told him he didn’t need friends growing up. George had grown to be quite the introvert, which he was all throughout high school. 

George felt tired, he just wanted things to be calm again. He didn’t want to deal with an enemy of some sort, he just wanted to stick to figure skating and only on that— he couldn’t bear the idea of walking into practice and having to see someone he hates. 

His shower is relaxing though, he feels less tense in the warmth of the water and he wishes it could last forever. But slowly he can feel his exhaustion pile on top of him again, so George just decides to get out and sleep. It was his best bet, there wasn’t much he could do that wouldn’t make him feel more tired.

Sleeping is easy. 

Life isn’t. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading. Honestly, I didn’t expect all the love on this fic. Sometimes when I post fics I lose interest because I feel people may not like them, but you’ve all truly shown me so much love and it has made me so happy. I get overwhelmed sometimes. I just wanna say I’m thankful for all your feedback, you guys are awesome. 🥺
> 
> If updates start becoming slow, I am in college and working. So I may not be too perfect with a schedule. 
> 
> Anyways, I hope you enjoyed. <3 Thank you again, so so much thanks.


	5. Vertigo (The Start)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The beginning of all things starts with something small, even if it’s least expected.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 5 wasn’t supposed to be out for another couple of days, but inspiration hit me like a truck and I finally have a way for the title to have TRUE meaning....
> 
> In other news this chapter was extremely personal to me, it’s really really focused on insecurities and how they can overtake your thoughts so easily. An appearance of someone mentioned has a spotlight for a few in this chapter.
> 
> Also, I want you all to know that this is a chapter details are important. :] 
> 
> Content warnings: slight manipulation (from parents), insecurities, overall rancid thoughts that plague George throughout this chapter. 
> 
> His frustration tolerance is breaking, and it’s really obvious that he’s getting sick of being held back.
> 
> But I strongly advise to listen to Neptune by Sleeping at Last and Once More to See You by Mitski this chapter (idk if both would work but one or the other works definitely!!!) They’re in ‘Vertigo the Playlist’ if you haven’t checked it out already it should be linked in Chapter 2 or 3!!
> 
> Nonetheless, as always, enjoy! Remember feedback is 100% welcomed on figure skating and even just anything in general. Theories and ideas (as long as you think they will fit into the storyline) are welcomed!!!
> 
> Bye bye, see you at the end notes!!!

A constant ticking sound grows irritating to George, he sits in the silence of Sapnap’s car as the other goes to the groceries. In his mind he feels horrible, for snapping at his parents. His body is aching for just a small push to let him know they aren’t mad at him.

His phone ring breaks the silence, and he answers it without looking.

“Hello?” George answers. He feels sick, no one answers him immediately. Maybe it could’ve been a prank call.

“Georgie,” his mother’s sickly sweet voice said, “What are you up to?”

“Im shopping with, Sapnap,” George said, “Is everything okay?”

His mind begins to cool down, as he thinks his parents may not be mad at him for snapping at them.

“Oh yes, I was just thinking of you,” she hums, “Listen, baby. I’m sorry if it doesn’t seem like we love you. But we do, we love you so much.”

“I love you too.”

“And, you know we just want what’s best for you always, you’re our little boy,” she cooed, “You can’t expect the world to just be easy though.”

George doesn’t try responding, just letting his mother continue whatever she’s getting at.

“Don’t make me and your dad seem like the bad guys, we aren’t, you’ve been really off lately,” she said, her voice was still calm though, which was off putting to George at least, “You can’t blame the parents when it isn’t our fault, whatever you’re going through is causing you to go against what we want for you.”

He’s silent for a moment, then he responds, his voice slightly cracking under the pressure, “What?”

“You’ve disobeyed us and snapped at us the other day, we weren’t wrong George,” his mother says softly, “I think you’re forgetting that criticism from parents isn’t to make you feel bad, it’s to help you.”

George is quiet, he feels off about this conversation, but he probably had been in a mood the past few weeks which caused his outburst.

“Right, sorry,” George said, “I wanted to apologize for snapping at you. It was wrong of me.”

He feels like a coward, or more so a dog, hiding away because he feels helpless. His mother talks about a few other things, then their call ends with a simple goodbye. George puts his phone down and looks out the window.

As he looks on, a familiar face appears walking his cart to his car. George sits up. If he’s right, it’s who he thinks it is— so he gets out of his car and looks over at the person once more.

“Leo?” George says, a little loud so he can hear, “Is that you?”

The man looks up, looking slightly surprised to see him and smiles, “Wow, George? Is  _ that  _ you?” he laughs, “How are you?”

George walks closer, “I’m okay, you know, same old with ice skating and everything.”

“That’s good to hear, I didn’t expect to see you around,” he hums, “You hear with Sapnap?”

“Yeah, he’s in the store,” George replied, “How’s school going?”

“Awesome, actually, I’m getting great grades and I love my classes, I’m still going to be a Doctor, if you were wondering,” Leo smiles. _ God,  _ George thinks,  _ it’s the same smile he always loved, _ although his thoughts are interrupted by Leo speaking again, “You look really different, not going to lie, if you weren’t small back when we were dating you’ve definitely gotten smaller now.”

“Oh please, you probably just got taller,” George jokes, “But yeah, figure skating has a strict diet and stuff, and with my parents there's really no such thing as a cheat day.”

“Oh come on, George,” Leo sighed, “You gotta stop letting them do these things. It was the same when we were dating, you’re older now. Put your foot down and show them you don’t need their control anymore.”

“They’re only doing what they do because they love me,” George defends, but it’s not with malice, just slightly hurt if anything, his heart almost sinking with Leo’s words.

“That’s—“ Leo starts, but it cuts off when Sapnap hollers out to the both of them.

“Yo!” Sapnap says, “Why are you talking to George?”

He stops rolling the cart and stands in front of him, trying to size up Leo. Sapnap looks him up and down, then speaks, “I told you to stay away, didn’t I?”

“Sapnap, it’s fine, it’s been over a year-“ George tries, but to no avail Sapnap continues.

“Listen pal, I don’t hate you, I don’t, but George is my best friend and  _ you’re  _ the one who broke his heart,” Sapnap huffs, “So you don’t have my permission to speak to him.”

“Why does everyone think they can speak for me!” George throws his hands up. He feels annoyed, irritated almost, he is the one who made the decision to speak to Leo, not the other way around, “I spoke to him first, Sap, I know what’s best for me!”

That made Leo and Sapnap both look down at him, making him feel small almost under both of their gazes, he looked between the two of them, “What’s your guy’s problem?”

Sapnap frowned, “We’ll talk later, and you’ll also say the same to Leo because we’re leaving,” he grabs the cart again and opens his trunk to load the car. 

George sighs, saying goodbye to Leo and getting back into the car. 

It was as if no one ever listened to him. For years he was spoken over, his opinion never mattered, everyone believed he was this fragile being that was incapable of helping himself. He hated it, he wasn’t fragile. Everyone treated him as such, no matter how much he tried to prove himself too.

“George,” Sapnap said, “Listen I’m not trying to speak for you, I just know that he hurt you and I don’t want you to get broken up over something like that again.”

“I’m over him, so I don’t need someone telling me what I’m ready for or not,” George hissed, his eyes trained to the windshield. He can practically hear Sapnap roll his eyes, “And don’t roll your eyes. I’m sick of it, I can never win.”

“George you know it’s  _ not  _ like that,” Sapnap replied, “Don't be an ass to me when I’m only trying to do wh—“

“What’s best for me? Is that it?” George responded, “Just like everyone else. Doing what’s best for  _ me? _ As if I’m incapable of knowing what’s best for myself?”

It’s hypocritical. He knows it, but his irritation has been sensitive to cracking the past few days, and this little dispute wasn’t helping him hold back his naturally hot-headed self. 

“That’s not what I meant,” Sapnap tried, but he knows he’s already pushed past George’s limits.

“Just— just shut up,” George huffs, “I’m not continuing this conversation any longer.”

In the silence there’s still somehow noise. The passing of cars, the quiet sound of the radio, the wind against the trees. The sign of early Autumn that bundles people up, the distinct chatter of the people when they stop at a red light. The world still moves on, it still continues, beyond George’s own flurry of thoughts it exists. There’s futures, there’s ends, there’s beginnings. For a while George feels selfish for taking his life for granted, but maybe it’s for the best. 

In his lifetime he never cared much for other things, never explored his interests. He existed in his own plane that was constantly flying. It never landed, but he knew deep down it was going to crash. The engine would fail, the gas would run out. George could helplessly try to prevent it, but all in all— the crash would be inevitable. He knows that it’ll be bound to happen at some point, but he has no way of knowing when.

No way of knowing when he’d last have to stop focusing on the stars and focus on the end. Of his skating career? Of everything? In no way did he know what would bring him to the end, but maybe there’s peace. Serenity that George could never imagine.

The overbearance of being never good enough lies heavy on his mind, he searches for the calm in the violence of it all. To him, the violence is a constant. 

Is the peace? Does his mind want to find that inner peace?

Will he end up stuck in a repetitive pattern his entire life?

The car comes to a halt and home is steps away. It’s Sunday evening, the street lamps are on by now and he can hear the heaviness of Sapnap’s brain— overdrive with thoughts. Exhaust piping through his ears. George knows he wants to speak, but he doesn’t. It frustrates George in a way, despite telling him off no longer than fifteen minutes ago.

Leo was an unexpected occurrence, he didn’t know the man would be anywhere but his school. Though he assumed the university hadn’t started for him yet, so he guesses he was doing last minute shopping before leaving again. Weights are heavy on his shoulders, all of the good times with his ex lover are racking through his brain at speed he couldn’t imagine. 

Lost is what George feels. He felt relieved to see Leo, but he felt so empty knowing what they could’ve been. If George had given more time, if he hadn’t dedicated so much time to perfection that they would still be together. They were so happy, so loving to one another. Their break up was one of the hardest things George had to ever deal with besides his injury when he was sixteen, despite everything Leo had been a constant, and then the constant in his life had fallen through and it shattered at his feet. 

The moment Leo sat down, his eyes apologetic, holding his hands, saying,  _ “I’m sorry, George. This isn’t working anymore. It’s time we go our separate ways.” _

George’s heart clenched, he felt the pain once more. 

All over again, and now he knows why Sapnap didn’t want them near each other. The pain would just start again, his heart would break and crumble beneath him. George truly had thought he was over Leo by now, but he supposed seeing him after a year of no contact had broken the walls he built to keep the hurt out.

“George,” Sapnap says softly, it’s not like his usual voice, the steady but sometimes obnoxiously loud one, it’s quiet. He sounds sad, “George, you’re crying.”

He touches his face, and looks down to his lap in pity, “I’m so sorry, Sap. You were right. We shouldn’t have talked, I was wrong. I’m sorry.”

“I would say I told you so, but I don’t think that’s the only thing that’s bothering you,” Sapnap responds, he reaches a hand out to rub at the nape of George’s neck, “What’s bothering you, man, these past few weeks I feel like I’ve been watching a brewing hurricane. You’ve never been this bad.”

George laughs wetly, “It’s too much.”

“Nothing is too much, we’re best friends,” Sapnap huffs, but it’s not rude, so George let’s him continue, “We’ve been best friends for ten years, you’ve always been one of the most independent and strong people I have ever met. I know I bully you and we fight sometimes, but you’re my best friend. You can talk to me.”

“What if I’m wasting my life?” George said quietly, “I loved and still love figure skating, but Sapnap, I don’t know anything else about me. My whole life I’ve dedicated it to going to the Olympics. It’s still one of the biggest things that I want to strive for,” he quiets down, “But without figure skating, there’s nothing else to me.”

“George, you’re like, the smartest person I know,” Sapnap says, “I’m not even kidding when I say that. You’ve helped me code and you got me through some of the most difficult classes I’ve taken in college. You’re a pain in the ass, but you’re funny. You’re independent, you always fight for yourself and don’t let people get to your head.”

George looks at Sapnap as he continues, “You always can like cool, really well. Not only all of those things, but you're an amazing person. Kids look up to you, you have such a strong impact on so many people, and it’s positive. There’s going to be shitty people out there, especially the ones you’ve told me about, but who cares about them? You’re you, and you don’t let them get to you because you know your own worth.”

He smiles, “You’re my best friend, dude, and I fucking love you. I will always be with you.”

“Thank you, Sap,” George whispers, “You’re mine too, I love you.”

——

They don’t speak about the minor breakdown George had. It’s three days later and George is at practice. He admits he feels a little better, not too much but he doesn’t feel like his mind is taking a blow at him any chance it gets. 

“You ready, George?” his coach asks, “Give it your all for me, okay?”

George nods once, then gets onto the ice. Thankfully the hockey players didn’t come in until later that day, as it was a late practice for them. 

The routine goes fine, for a bit. He gets through the bits and pieces that are easier to him, his skill building up further into his routine instead of being all at once. His body flows nicely to soft music. George was doing  _ fine,  _ he was. 

There was nothing that could explain why he suddenly felt anxious, even going into his double loop + double axel wss unsteady, which only made him feel worse about attempting his quad loop. But he pushes through, ignoring his anxiety and getting through his hydroplane then beginning his approach to the quad. 

His body refuses, for no reason, to even allow him to attempt it and he trips onto the ice. It doesn’t hurt, but he feels his anxiety build up falling in front of all of the other skaters once again. George throws himself up off the ice and quickly skates to the exit of the rink.

He doesn’t listen to what his coach is trying to say, just opting to take his skates off and disappear into the locker room. George runs his hands through his hair the moment he enters. He doesn’t even think twice when slamming his closed fist into a nearby locker before slumping against it. 

“ _ What the hell is wrong with me? _ ” George closes his eyes, and runs his hands over his face, taking a deep breath. He was doing  _ well,  _ he was getting his quad loops down so what the  _ fuck  _ happened?

George’s hands shake as he takes them off his face and he closes his eyes, trying to go over breathing exercises to keep himself at bay. But nothing seems to be working and it frustrates him indefinitely. It hurts, everything that could go wrong  _ has  _ gone wrong. 

He feels stupid, there was no reason for him  _ not  _ to do his quad loop. George sucks in a deep breath and walks further into the locker room, catching a glance of himself in the full body mirror. He didn’t even recognize himself anymore. It could’ve been anything that was the cause of that, weight loss, exhaustion, anxiety, lack of sleep. He didn’t  _ know _ .

George heavily sighs, not having enough power to go out and face his teammates again. He couldn’t do it.

With the anxiety came his frustration again. 

“God I’m such an idiot,” George mumbles, “I can’t even complete my fucking routine!” 

The locker room opens and he stands up quickly. Turning around quickly to see Dream and his teammates standing there with their bags. 

“You’re in the wrong locker room,” George said, slightly annoyed.

“No princess, you are,” the tallest of the players said, “Do you read the signs?”

“Why are you guys even here? Your practice isn’t for another hour,” George scoffs, “Even if I am in the wrong locker room you guys are still here way earlier than you should.”

“Actually, no you got our practice wrong too,” the tall guy responds again, he nudged Dream and smirked, “Our buddy set it up so we could get another hour of practice in before worlds.”

George whips his head to Dream, “You are such an asshole!”

“Cry about it, kitty,” Dream teased, he smirked and fixed his bag. A couple of the guys laugh along with him, George is set off.

He goes to grab Dream but another one of the players grabs his arms and pulls him back, holding him in his place, “You’re such a violent person, don’t you know figure skaters are supposed to have manners?”

George struggles to get out of the hockey players hold, “Let me go, asshole.” He only grips his arms tighter and George closes his eyes, “Let me go or I’m telling your coach that you all cornered me in the locker room.”

The guy immediately let’s go, George huffing, “I don’t want anything to do with you guys. Ever. You’re all pricks, who have no sense of respect for anyone. So you can all go fuck yourselves.”

He brushes past them, but stops at Dream momentarily and looks up at him dead in the eyes, “And just know I fucking hate you.l

George leaves the locker room, more ticked off than he was before. He goes to sit down and put his skates on, but his coach stops him.

“Kid, I think you’re overworking yourself to the brink,” he says, “Why don’t you go home early and rest up a lot okay? No working out, no practicing, just rest. Okay? You’re going to collapse if you try and push yourself any harder.”

“Coach, Grand Prix is in two months. I have to keep pushing myself if I want to land the quadruple loop during my skate,” George says, “I simply can’t. I’m sorry.” 

“And I’m your coach, I know when my skaters need a break,” he explains, “And you do. Losing three hours of practice is okay, I promise.”

There looks to be no possible way of budging him, so George sighs. 

“Okay, I’ll see you later then,” George replies. He gets up to go to the respective locker room when someone calls him.

“Bye George!” Grace says, “We’ll miss you!” 

“Bye guys,” George smiles softly, then turns back around and enters the locker room. His heart feels heavy in his chest. He knows his coach is only doing this for the best, but he can’t help but feel his coach is also disappointed in him.

He grabs his bag, slinging it over his shoulder and spares one glance to the hockey team that’s emerging from their locker room. Dream is last out and looks at George, almost looking apologetic. George scoffs to himself and looks away. 

They were all the same anyways. 

The bike home was uneventful. George was free to let his thoughts wander. He only stops at a corner to wait for the light to turn to free to walk when he hears a small noise behind him.

George turns his head, noticing a small kitten sitting next to his bicycle. He gasps and carefully gets off his bike, kneeling down next to the small kitty.

“Where’s your momma?” George whispered, holding a hand out for the cat to sniff. It immediately nuzzles into him, purring softly. 

The cat wasn’t matted or looked super skinny, even if it was a kitten. George wondered if the kitten had been dumped.

“Do you wanna come home with me?” he asked, seeing if the kitty would let him pick it up. When it obliged, George held it close to his chest, “You poor thing. It’s okay, you can stay with me. Okay?”

The cat meowed and cuddled into George’s embrace, making George smile and close his eyes. 

Cats were his favorite animal, but he wasn’t ever allowed a pet growing up. So it felt nice finally holding one in his arms that he could potentially call his. George isn’t too far from his apartment, so he decides to walk his bike the rest of the way while the cat sleeps in his arms.

When he chains his bike up and walks through the front door, Sapnap is sitting on the couch watching television.

“George what are you holding?”

“A kitten!” George whisper-shouted, “I think his owners abandoned him, Sap. He is so friendly.”

“George, you just picked a random cat up off the street?” he exclaims, “What if it has like— diseases?”

“Well I’ll take him to the vet,” George huffed, “Please Sapnap, it needs a home just as much as anyone else. I couldn’t stand myself if I just left it alone.”

Sapnap sighed, “Fine, come here let me see him.”

George say down next to him, allowing Sapnap to take the kitty and hold it up in front of him, “I think we should name it Lil Uzi Vert.”

“We are not naming the cat after Lil Uzi,” George rolls his eyes, “What about Vertigo?”

“And why should we name the cat that?” 

“Well vertigo is the sensation of loading your balance, making you feel like you’re spinning, but you’re still in one place,” George said, “Life can constantly feel like we have the feeling of Vertigo, but the smallest things can help us feel balanced once more. It’s like— It’s kinda a play on the word naming the cat that, but I think we need something in our lives right now to balance us out.”

“Fine, Vertigo the cat it is,” Sapnap says, “But his nickname is Lil Uzi Vertigo.”

“You’re such an idiot.” George laughs, and the small kitty squirms from Sapnap’s hold and back into George’s lap.

_Vertigo the cat_ , George runs it over in his head, _sounds like a perfect name._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay— super fast updated chapter after I said it may take a bit. But I really didn’t wanna lose my creative spark so I threw my all into this chapter. It’s semi-personal, but I really really hope you like it. I promise next chapter there will be a break from all the hurt I’ve put you guys through. 
> 
> Thank you once again for all the love. 2k reads and 220+ kudos??? You guys are INSANE I never expected so much love. You guys make my night, truly. I appreciate you all so much. <3 
> 
> Have a blessed and happy night or day, and beautiful week!


	6. Repercussion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Actions come with consequences, George knows this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 6!!! Wooooo
> 
> This is kinda long I will say. It’s not as sad or anything? It’s a little more light hearted and angsty but still not too bad!
> 
> The only content warning for this chapter is quite huge, I think. It’s heavily referenced and implied towards beginning of an eating disorder of some sort, and it talked about along with weight and stuff. So be safe, I kinda got a little personal— oops.
> 
> But hey, this is hurt/comfort and I promise that the comfort will be coming to you shortly! I really push for heavy characterization and attempts to get how characters interact and will overcome before things start getting better.
> 
> I listened to Vertigo by Khalid this chapter! It really fits in my opinion! Also it’s the title of this fic, and of course the title has to slowly unravel to its meaning, but the title isn’t based off the song (just a btw!)! But enjoy!!
> 
> Sorry, not beta read or double checked. As always enjoy and feedback is welcomed always. I appreciate any help I can get when it comes to figure skating as well. :)

George presses play on his phone, playing his routine music through his earphones, going over the skate in his head. The morning had been slightly uneventful, practice was fine and he had left Vertigo to Sapnap’s care while he practiced. George had thought of just taking the small feline with him, but didn’t want to keep the poor cat in a cage the entire day except on his breaks.

He had gotten a few skates in, all going just fine. His quad loop was still a little sloppy, but he was landing it and he supposed that was all that mattered. As long as he was sticking the landing, that was all he needed to get it down in the long run. 

His Coach had been reassuring him that he would get it down soon, that his routine was beautiful and that the quad loop would definitely help his score in the Grand Prix. 

The past two days were fairly quiet, he hadn’t been too overly stressed or anxious which was a good sign on his part. 

His coach had to talk with the coach of the hockey players and get them to leave their skaters alone, or there would be major consequences in the future. George’s coach was intolerant to stuck up and obnoxious people, the amount of kids and teenagers he’s seen over the past years that have come and gone because his coach booted them from his lessons was fairly high.

Thankfully George was never really one to get in trouble. He was quiet and didn’t really speak to anyone for the longest time until recently, all of his fellow mates on the skate team were ambitious and constantly following in his footsteps. It was precious to George, the feeling of being good enough to other people.

At skate competitions he’s met dozens of other skaters who talk to him and try to make conversation, asking how he looks effortlessly beautiful and flowing like water in his routines. George didn’t chat them up as much, but sometimes he wishes he did. 

While there were people at the competitions that praised and looked up to him, there were people who believed he’d never make it to where he was if it wasn’t for his parents. George really tried to stay out of drama at competitions, so he never confronted the people who would talk behind his back. If anything, it was the majority of the male skaters who didn’t think he deserved the spot he was in.

But George knew that no one gets to where they are if they don’t try, everyone puts in their own amount of effort to get to the top of their goals. And finally the Grand Prix where he was being tested to get to the Olympics was finally coming and his nerves about it were there. 

He was already pretty known and a few of his skates were online to see, many with thousands of views and comments that spoke of him highly. It wasn’t like he got noticed wherever he went, but if anyone were to be interested in the sport and kept up with the sport they’d probably know of him.

George looks at one of the boys who is going through his skate, who happens to be the one who told him about Dream. The teen was getting better at skating, definitely. George had given him pointers and tips to improve his execution and since then he’s been flying through the routines with little setbacks.

His coach has also been on and off the ice with him, teaching him skills that he was starting to get ready for. The teen, by the name Dylan from what George can recall was a late beginner, so he didn’t have many skills like the younger skaters. George watches his coach skate around the ice with him as he works through his skills, even doing the technique with him.

He must’ve zoned out while thinking, because he feels someone pat his back, “George, you’re up,” his coach motions, and George nods.

He praised the teen skater quickly and took off his blade protectors, pushing himself onto the rink. George had to give his all for this routine. The Grand Prix was nearing, getting closer every day and George  _ had  _ to have a perfect skate.

The moment the music began he zoned himself to his routine. His body fluidly moved to the rhythm as he continued. George didn’t overthink this time, simply settling down his thoughts and pushing through each revelation, each spin,  _ everything.  _ His quad loop was one of his last skills that involved rotation and jumping from the ice, and all before that he imagined that the rest of his routine had to have been near perfect. 

George’s approach was coming soon right after his hydroblade, as he got up right he started his approach. It felt right, going into it, George felt good about it. As he turns around and jumps from his toe pick he immediately begins his revolutions. 

He lands it— and it feels  _ amazing _ when he lands. The relief overfills him and the moment he skates after it to complete his routine he’s smiling. George feels good about himself for once. 

So he finished his routine with his sit spin, throwing his head down and steadying himself on the ice with his hand.

George catches his breath, then looks back up to the ceiling, falling back purposely onto the ice and starfishes. He laughed a little when he heard his coach tell the other skaters to ‘not lay on the ice after routines like him’ and sat up. 

His coach smiles at him with a worn expression. 

When he finally gets over to the exit of the rink his coach smiles, “That was beautiful, George, there’s not much I can pick at, it was just beautiful. Your best performance, and the quad loop was wonderful, you’re really getting it down, I’m proud of you, kid.”

Grace walks up to him and tugs on his arm, “You have to teach me how to do the quad loop, George, please!”

“Sorry Grace, George is out of business until the Grand Prix is over,” his coach chuckled, “And you’re still getting into your lutz, so don’t think too far ahead, okay?”

Grace sighs, “George, I know you’re a boy but one day I want to but just like you! Seriously!”

“You definitely will,” George responds, “You’re already amazing.”

She smiles and hugs him, slightly catching him off guard, “Thank you, George! You’re the best ever!”

Grace rushed away and his Coach just shook his head, “With that much energy she should be throwing double axels.”

“She’s young, it’s fine,” George laughed, “I remember being her age and wanting to do so much at so young.”

“Well,” his coach sighed, “Your parents really pushed you into it. You were already ahead of so many at so young.”

George nods, “Yeah, I know.” he wraps his arms around his waist and looks at the empty rink. He still feels a sense of happiness from how well his skate had gone.

“Why don’t you go get packed up, you did great today,” his coach nodded, “Tomorrow we’ll focus solely on the quad loop. With extra practice on it, it should be mastered by you soon.”

He gives his coach a thumbs up and sits down on the bench to take off his skates. Across the building the hockey players were kicking around a puck and nudging each other around. Seemingly careless for a group that wanted to go to the Olympics, in George’s opinion.

For a group that ranked so high at their worlds competitions and all their games they seemed to be so effortlessly rambunctious and joking. They didn’t seem to care about the game at all. 

George rolled his eyes and put his skates over his shoulder, heading into the locker room and fixing up his bag to get ready to leave. He goes over a few messages that were sent by Sapnap, a lot were of Vertigo and others ranting about the TV show he was watching. George just chuckled and responded with a bunch of hearts and thumbs up.

When he leaves the building, he takes a long, deep breath. He basks in the warm air of the last days of Summer and unchains his bike, setting off to his apartment. 

As usually the bike back is uneventful, ultimately getting to his apartment no later than fifteen minutes. He chains his bike, then goes inside to greet Sapnap.

Vertigo sprints up off of his lap and circles George, wrapping her tiny tail around his leg. He grins and picks up the kitty.

“How was she?” George asked, holding the cat close, “And how was work?”

“The kitty is pretty much potty trained already, such a good cat you found. Loved to cuddle,” Sapnap said, “And work was fine, a couple of complaints from old guys saying their computers didn’t work. In reality their computer was just turned off.”

George laughs a bit, “I pretty much did a flawless skate today.” 

“Really? That’s awesome, George!” Sapnap said, “I bet it’s relieving to finally get it down.”

“You already know it, I feel like it’s been ages,” George said, he goes and sits down next to Sapnap, crossing his legs so Vertigo can sit in his lap. 

“Are you going to tell your parents?”

George thinks for a moment, but just shakes his head, “No, probably not.”

If he did, they’d find something to complain about. So he didn’t want to ruin his good mood just yet. 

“Good idea, I don’t think I’ve seen you look so happy for like, weeks, maybe even months,” Sapnap said, “It’s good to see you smile.”

“Oh shut up.”

“You up for dinner?” Sapnap asked, “I can cook.”

George ponders for a moment, thinking back to his weight, it made his gut twist slightly. For a moment he wonders if he’d been getting his quad loops so much was because of the weight he lost. He shakes his head.

“I ate with my skating group,” George lied, “My coach’s treat.”

Sapnap raises a brow, but gives in as he knows it’s not too rare of an occurrence, “Okay, but I’ll make extra in case you want some later.”

“Thanks,” George said, he stands up from the couch. Nodding to Sapnap before going to his room with the kitty. He sets her on the bed.

“What do you think?” George said, “Do you think my mom was right?”

The cat stares at him blankly, “Why am I talking to a cat?” George laughs at himself, “You don’t know what’s going on.”

He strips from his practice clothes and walks into the bathroom. The scale is tempting. George carefully steps onto it and the thin red line jiggles and ultimately settles in between what looks like  _ 114/115.  _ He feels sick, like he shouldn’t weigh that little even if he wasn’t that tall. He was around 5’7 the last time he checked, and was already underweight before he started restricting his food intake because of his mother. But if it was helping him, he didn’t mind. He just wanted to look beautiful.

Instead of worrying about it too much, he steps off the scale and goes back into his room. He changed into something more comfortable and collapsed on the bed next to the cat. 

Sleep overcomes his body quickly. He turns momentarily to the cat and holds her against his chest tightly, smiling into the cat's fur.

— 

George is up bright and early with Vertigo that next morning, he decides to take her on a walk as she seemed to really need to get her energy out. He was fine, he had until noon to get back to the apartment with the kitty and say goodbye to Sapnap.

He gets his practice clothes on, that way he can dip right after to get to practice then puts the harness around the kitty with a smile, “Let’s go.”

The cat wobbles after him, even waiting for George to get his shoes on. Sapnap laughs, “That cat loves you.”

“She’s happy to have a home,” George responds.

He takes his morning stroll, having to carry Vertigo most the way anyway, the small cat deciding she didn't want to walk anymore after an hour. George decided to drop by the coffee place, he was still tired and needed a little boost anyways.

The coffee shop was fairly empty for the time it was, surprised the morning rush of adults hadn’t been almost out the door. But it was quiet, a few workers cleaning tables and his good friend Karl behind the counter explaining something to what looked to be a new employee.

“Hey, Karl,” George said, he holds up the small cat in his hands and smiles, “Look at my new friend.”

Karl brightens instantly, “Oh wow! It’s so cute,” he waves at the little cat and motions for the employee he was talking to to do something. He turns back to George, “How are you?”

“Un, today is pretty good?” George said, “I’ve been okay the past two days. How are you?”

“I’m doing great, my boss just promoted me!” Karl replied, tossing a rag over his shoulder, “Can I get you anything today?”

“Just the usual please, and maybe something for my cat?” George hummed, and Karl jotted down his order into the register. 

After he pays he takes a seat at one of the tables, Vertigo laying down in his lap napping, “Kitty, we haven’t even walked that long.”

But Vertigo continues to nap, anyways. Karl brings out his order and chats him up a bit more, talking about a new video game he started but couldn’t finish for the life of him. 

The door of the coffee shop opened and three guys walked in, one noticeably being Dream and probably two of his teammates he couldn’t remember. Karl waves at them and goes back behind the counter.

George looks down at his cat, the small feline stretching awake and sniffing at the items on the table.

He holds out a cup of whip cream, “This is yours, Vert. You can have it.” 

Vertigo gladly starts to lick it, being guided to the ground so he wouldn’t get on the table. George takes a sip of his coffee, watching his cat and ignoring the three guys in there with him.

He hears Dream wheeze and smack one of his friends, but he doesn’t dare to look up in case they were messing with him. The coffee shops gently music filled his ears like white noise, his brain hyper focusing on the sounds rather than the people talking. George didn’t want to talk to any of the hockey players, it would probably be embarrassing or he’d get made fun of somehow.

“Hey George,” Dream said, “Here all alone?”

George ignored him, bending down to pick the empty bowl of whip cream and grabbing his cat too, he lets the small animal and continued to pretend he didn’t hear the others' advancement.

“George, it’s rude to ignore people,” one of the other guys said, “Why don’t you answer him?”

He takes a deep breath and looks up, “Yeah. I’m here with my cat, why are you talking to me?”

“Can’t make friendly conversation anymore?” Dream hums, “What, too good for other people now?”

“No, I just don’t spend my energy talking to insufferable people,” George said, he stands up and grabs his coffee in his free hand. Vertigo walks in circles around his legs, but ultimately decides on sitting in front of him as if protecting him.

“It’s a little rude to call people insufferable,” Dream feigns sadness, “What did we even do?”

“Are you fucking with me?” George asks, “Like actually, are you joking? You know exactly the things you’ve done.”

“Oh, right,” Dreams sighs, “Don’t act like you’re the saint in this situation either.”

“I have not done anything you didn’t deserve,” George said, “So no, I’ve done nothing wrong.”

“We could’ve been friends, but in your words you don’t have time for other people,” Dream says, his tone mocking, “You can expect to find anyone if you’re going to be a cold and heartless person. You’re basically unlovable.”

“You don’t know anything, Dream.”

“Really? Not even your own parents seem to love you,” his words are harsh, and he seems to recognize the mistake he made almost immediately, going to say something again but the damage has been done.

George stands there, his heart plummeting to his stomach as Dream's words settle in. It shouldn’t get to him. Of course his parents love him. But was he truly unlovable? Were his words true?

He feels his face flush, and even his eyes water a bit. George takes a deep breath and rubs his tears away.

“I need to go,” George said, his tone was quiet and he just picked his cat up, grabbed his coffee and headed towards the door. If he didn’t leave now, he’d cry in front of Dream.

He doesn’t know why he’s been so emotional lately, things like that don’t usually get to him. But there was a fine line and Dream had crossed it by bringing his parents into the situation. They weren’t part of the unannounced war between them. 

George was probably overreacting, but he still disappeared out of the coffee shop and made his way back home. Vertigo would have to be home alone for a while, as Sapnap had to work and George had practice. When he drops the cat off at home, he makes his way back outside.

Practice was going to be rough today. He’d just push himself a lot today to take his mind off of things. 

When he arrives, his coach is skating around the ice with one of his mates and one was on the bench. There were only four other people he practiced with, so just two were missing. 

George does strain himself for the entirety of practice, doing constant quad loops to get himself used to them even more. He practiced a few different things as well, but the majority of the time he focused on perfecting his skills the best he can. 

He didn’t bother taking his lunch break, either. George just wanted to practice and that was it. His coach tried to coax him into taking a small break, but he didn't budge. 

He is practicing a few hours down the line, being one of the few left that were practicing today. George is coming out of a camel spin when he feels a sudden wave of nausea hit him. His brain fuzzes out for a moment and he rubs his face to compose himself a bit.

But the dizziness doesn’t go away, he tries to not move as much as possible, but only ends up making it worse. When he bends down, he gets a wave of vertigo, the ice moving everywhere and the world moving slowly around him. George must’ve collapsed or something, because when he next gains consciousness he is laying on a bench with a rag being pressed to his head.

“You passed out, George,” his coach said, “One one of the hockey players went out there and carried you outside the rink.”

George doesn’t respond, still getting used to the blinding light in his eyes, “How much longer left of practice do we have?”

“Two hours, but you’re not practicing the rest of the night,” he coach responds, “You passed out, I think your blood sugars are too low so you need to eat and rest your body. You can’t starve yourself and then practice your ass off.”

“I’m not starving myself,” George mumbled, “It’s just a diet.”

“Yeah, one that your coach didn’t give you,” his coach scolds, “I never gave you a strict diet because you were already small as is. I gave you a very simple diet to follow, one that would still give you the energy and nutrition that you need to keep your body working.”

“It’s better for me,” George goes to push himself up, his arms weak and his head still throbbing, “I feel… I feel better with the diet.”

“No, if this continues I’m going to have to intervene and take you to a doctor, eating disorders are way too common in skating and I aim to never have my students harm their body that way,” he says, “You can’t starve yourself, that is the beginning of an eating disorder. With all of the exercise and strain you put on your body you will lose too much weight.”

“It’s fine, I don’t have an eating disorder,” George groans, “Coach, I don’t have one. I’m fine.”

His coach looks him over, “How much do you weigh?”

George feels cold, “What?”

“How much do you weigh, George.”

“I don’t need to share my weight,” George defends himself, “I weigh enough.”

“I’m getting you to a general practitioner,” his coach replied, “I’m sorry, George.”

All George can think of is how his parents will be mad at him, how his mother will coax him out of going, how embarrassing it is to have to get checked out by a practitioner for something he didn’t have. He didn’t have an eating disorder.

There was no way. Sure his way of thinking had been slightly altered when it came to weight, but he was moving much better on the ice. His body rejected the idea of eating more than he thought was okay sometimes, but he’s always been like that. 

Nor was he extremely skinny, he had good upper strength and lower body strength too. He wasn’t fragile or weak, not at all. 

“I don’t have an eating disorder,” George said again, “I don’t.”

“We’ll see what the doctor says,” his coach responds, “Now how much do you weigh?”

George closes his eyes, “I— I don’t know, like 114?” he closed his eyes and brushed off the thoughts of how it could be less. How if he lost more he could move more flawlessly across the ice. 

“That’s very underweight, George, I’m your coach, I’ve known you since you were little and you’ve always been small, but that’s too little,” his coach responds, he presses a hand to his face, “I can’t force you to do anything, but me of all people know that you are doing more harm to your body than good.”

——

George is sent home early. He arrives at the apartment with nagging thoughts and the more he gets into his headspace the more his body turns against him and protests movement. He collapses on the coach and Vertigo rushes up to him and jumps onto his lap.

“Hey girl,” George hums, “Sorry I was gone so long.”

The cat meows in response and cuddles up against him, her warmth settling in his bones. He didn’t know what he did to deserve getting such a wonderful creature in his life, what led him to find such a small little cat begging to have a place to stay.

“You’re kinda like me, kitty,” George holds her close, “Don’t feel like you belong anywhere. Just looking for warmth and a home to stay.”

The cat meows and lifts her tiny head to look at him, George smiles, “Sometimes I feel like the world is too much, you know? So much going on and I can’t keep up with it.”

He closes his eyes and rests his head back, inhaling deeply, “Every time it gets better, something happens that knocks the progress backwards. Just when I start getting confident in a skill that’s taken me months to even get landed, I still feel knocked back.” George said, “I used to take years to get skills and the moment it’s only taken me up to half a year to start landing them and feel good about it I know am being recommended to a doctor because of an  _ eating disorder, _ ” he spits out the last two words, slightly irritated at even the thought of getting help for something he didn’t have.

Of course it seemed like it, but it wasn’t true. There wasn’t a chance, and if anything he thought he took a decent amount of care to his body. Just like his mother said anyways, a lot of figure skaters are small so they can ice skate easier. 

The cat falls asleep on him a few minutes later, her little body curled in his arms against his chest. 

Maybe the cat did resonate with him. Being small and lost, having the feeling of no where to go even when surrounded by so many people. It only takes one person to change that. Even with Sapnap, he didn’t feel like he had anywhere to go. 

So who was going to make him feel that way? If he was the cats way of feeling like she belonged, who was going to make him feel the same way?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!!! Also holy crap, 3k hits? That’s insane!! Thank you for all of the support and love, truly I don’t know how I deserve this :(( you’re all awesome!!!! So much love to you guys.
> 
> And ohhh, Dream please stop speaking... it’s better for everyone right now haha. But neither characters are perfect. :)


	7. Crash

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Recovery is a long process.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 7.... cries... uhmmmm
> 
> Okay hey! I’m actually going to start this note of with the content warnings. This chapter talks a lot about mental health and eating disorders. I’ve decided to incorporate this into the fic as I have future ideas towards this plot point. Thus chapter in specific talks about eating disorders a lot. This is something I personally struggle with, I did my best to write about it. I’m no expert on how doctors work and stuff. But please be warning this chapter for talks about eating disorders and slight mentions of bad parenting.
> 
> This chapter is heavy set in angst and hurt. Some comfort though.
> 
> And Dream... well you will see!
> 
> Oddly enough I listened to Skinny Love by Birdy! It’s in my playlist for this fic found in chapter 2 or 3. Feel free to listen if you would like to :)
> 
> I appreciate feedback about figure skating always, and am so thankful for all of the support I’ve gotten too! <3

The practitioner calls George into her office, looking at her clipboard as she walks in after him.

“Hello, I’m Dr. Franklin, but you can just call me Hannah okay?” she smiles, “Now your Coach, Luther Sanchez booked you this appointment is what I'm hearing?”

“Yeah, we talked about it a few days ago,” George responds, “He thinks I have an eating disorder.”

“While he’s not family, he said that he’s known you for a long time and sent you to me, I’m his families doctor, so he just put you under his care I’m guessing,” Hannah explains, “We’re going to be taking your weight, and then we’ll go through some questions. We can then do some blood tests and if needed I’ll get you to a specialist.”

George sighs, but nods in agreement. He hops off of the table and she writes something down. 

“Just step on the scale for me,” she instructed. After George follows her orders, she pulls down the bar to measure his height, writes something down, and then balances out the scale, “You’re 67 inches, or five foot seven, and your weight is… 110 pounds.”

Something short circuits in his mind,  _ 110?  _ Just a week ago he had been around 114, so that means he had lost a significant amount of weight since then. This didn’t look good for him.

“Alright, you can sit back down, I’m going to ask you a few questions okay?”

George nods and takes a seat, the doctor sitting on her chair and typing at the computer. She goes over basic questions and then looks over to him.

“Do you limit the food you intake?” 

“Yes.”

“Do you get urges to purge or throw up the things you eat because you feel guilty for eating?”

George bites his lip, but shakes his head, “Not always.”

“Do you set strict diets for yourself in order to lose weight?”

“Yes…”

“Do you skip meals, avoid eating, or anything under that circumstance?” she looks at George, her expression is gentle. Like her words could snap him in half.

“Yeah, I do,” George replies honestly, “It’s for figure skating. It works better to be lighter.”

“I see,” she hums, “Do you have problems with anxiety, episodes of depression, or problems with your anger that may disorient your way of eating?”

“Well I don’t usually get anxious, when I was younger my parents took me to a psychiatrist to get treated for my temper problems and depression, but they never did anything about it after that,” George responds, “Sometimes when I’m angry or upset I will lock myself in the room or avoid seeing people. So sometimes I don’t eat.”

“Alright, George, we’re going to get you set up to get your blood drawn alright?” she says, “And get you an appointment with a psychiatrist to see if you need any medication. Right now just wait here, I’m going to get another doctor.”

George sits in silence after she leaves. He feels exposed. All of his problems seem to crash into him at once, he doesn’t even want to be here but he did it for his coach. The man who raised him when no one else would. 

His parents weren’t absent, at least a majority of the time, for the first half of his life he was overly protected by his parents but it dwindled away from the older he got. The only times they checked up on him would be about his practice, the one time he believed they cared for him was when he was thirteen and being taken to a psychiatrist. 

What provoked it was a sudden meltdown, his parents were seemingly concerned and the psychiatrist he was brought to asked him millions of questions. He knew his anger problems were of concern, but no one took him seriously.

George looks up when the door opens and the two doctors have the kits ready to go. He takes off his jacket so they would have better access, then they inject his arm with the IV while they take his blood. 

After a few minutes, they’re talking to him about when the blood tests would be back when he should go to the psychiatrist and a bunch of other things he doesn’t register at that moment. 

“I do believe that you have an eating disorder, George, so we are going to set a diet up for you to take so you’re not essentially starving yourself,” she explains, “I know you do not want to accept this, but treatment is necessary and it may negatively affect your future if you don’t get help.”

“Ruin my future?”

“There are outside factors, like becoming too weak or even death if you’re not careful,” Hannah replies, “You’re a figure skater, you can get seriously injured if you pass out on the ice or mid trick. This is for your own safety and health.”

George stares, he can’t think of anything that he could say that would change this outcome. He should’ve lied, may then it wouldn’t turn out this way. But he listens to anything the doctors say nonetheless and goes home with a diet plan and a few other papers she had given him.

When he opens the door, Sapnap is on the phone with someone and Vertigo is stretched across his lap in deep slumber. He quietly sets his things on the counter and walks to the fridge to pin the diet plan to it. 

Sapnap says goodbye to whoever he’s talking to and leans back, “So what did the doctor say?”

“What?” George jumped, “How’d you know I went to them?”

“Your coach contacted me earlier this morning to chat about watching over you, making sure you follow what the doctor says, and other things,” Sapnap raised his brow, “Why wouldn’t you tell me that you were suspected for an eating disorder?”

“Well it’s my personal business,” George said, “It doesn’t matter if I have one or don’t have one.”

“It definitely matters if you do,” Sapnap sets the sleeping cat on the couch and stands up, walking to the kitchen so he can lean on their tiny island, “Your health matters just as much as mine.”

“Well it’s not like it’s a definite I have one, they have to do blood tests, but she suspects I do so she gave me a diet plan to follow,” George crossed his arms, looking at Sapnap with an annoyed expression, “It’s not that serious.”

“Oh don’t even bullshit with me, George,” Sapnap snaps, he stands up tall, “People die from those types of things. I don’t want you to  _ die  _ George.”

“I don’t have one!” George throws his arms up, “Just because I’m underweight and don’t eat a lot—or - or avoid meals doesn’t mean that I have an eating disorder. And I  _ can’t  _ have one. My parents will kill me!”

“Your fucking parents are the reason you have one in the first place!” 

“They are doing what’s  _ best _ for  _ me, _ ” George fired back, “I know they’re doing what they can to get me to do better and if it means I’m twenty something pounds underweight then so fucking be it.”

Sapnap slams a fist to the counter, “You never fuckjng cared about your weight before, hell you always complained to me that you wanted to  _ gain _ weight. What the fuck changed?”

“I can perform better, my parents were right, figure skaters are small and graceful, I can’t be graceful if I’m not small.”

“We all know that’s bullshit,” Sapnap says, his venom not dying down, “You are unbelievable. It’s every day, you are emotionally distressed, you’re depressed, you’re exhausted, you’re never happy anymore George!”

He looks down, exhaling slowly, “Do you know how much it sucks seeing your best friend wither away slowly… and there’s nothing you can say to change their mind?”

George falters for a second, barely noticing Vertigo pawing at his legs as if she sensed the amount of distress in the room. He takes a deep breath, “Well maybe I didn’t ask to be like this. But I have to accept it, so deal with it.” 

He storms back into his room, Vertigo running after him and just barely making it in before George slams the door. 

They didn’t fight often. Usually it was pointless bickering and they’d go back to laughing almost right afterwards. But it felt different. They  _ fought _ with each other, and George felt pathetic.

He slides down against his door and wraps his arms around his legs. It was pathetic to cry. His phone rings, but he just ignored it and continued to stare into nothing. Vertigo seemed anxiety ridden pawing at him, circling him, and meowing in distress as George didn’t move or say anything. 

She eventually walks in front of him and places her two paws on his knees to get into his field of vision. George sighs, “Sorry girl, I’m not feeling too well so I can’t play.”

Vertigo moves back onto the floor, curling up by his feet and resting. She didn’t bother him anymore, just allowing George to sulk, and if anything sulked with him.

His coach had called him off of practice today. It was a Saturday and then on Sunday’s his ballet practices varied, but for some reason he doesn’t feel the motivation to even go to that. He’d probably just feel worse in the long run. 

After a few hours, after he had moved to his bed, he was scrolling through his camera roll. He didn’t take photos often, only taking them when the most important things happened to him. There were competitions, photos of him and Sapnap, his parents looking out to the ocean. He wounds up on Instagram, and a profile that pops up in his recommendations catches his eye. 

**_@dream1999_ ** __

George hummed, clicking on the account and looking at the photos. It was Dream’s social media account.

He looks at the goofy selfies he’s taken with his mates, there are a few of him as a baby, a couple with his parents, and then two of him at a pride festival. He’s standing with the bi flag and it’s a photo of him in action, glitter all over his cheeks, while he looks to be screaming something.

And then there’s one of the most recent posts. It’s the ice rink.

**_@dream19999_ ** _ the ice is my home. thank you to everyone who has supported me for so long! i find myself feeling more free than ever when i’m playing. to my coach, my teammates, my parents. days get rough, they can be draining and make you not want to keep fighting anymore. but all it takes is the one push to make you keep going. #hockey #throwback #myfamily _

George hums. It’s a sentimental post, and coming from someone who acts as horrible as Dream it would seem out of character. But George supposed he never really talked to Dream or got to know him as well. He seems happy, his parents love him and support his choices, everything about his Instagram page seems to explain him as a whole.

While George’s Instagram is almost dead with the lack of posts, the most recent one being from three years ago back when he was injured terribly.

It’s a photo of him in a cast while on Leo’s back, both of them smiling.

**_@georgedavidson_ ** _ Thanks to this guy for being such a huge supporter. (you too sapnap). Thanks for carrying me by your side into recovery! I don’t know where I’d be without you. To many more years to come. <3  _

It was hard to look at. In general his Instagram feed was just photos of Leo and Sapnap, and occasionally a few stray animals he saw while on a walk, and then the signature photo of his ice skates. 

There’s a knock on his door, probably Sapnap, but he doesn’t respond, instead allowing the other to speak first.

“I made you dinner, please eat it.”

He hears Sapnap’s footsteps disappear, and then he gets off the bed to open the door. He picks the plate up and closes the door right behind him, setting the meal on his desk.

Vertigo stretches awake and shakes herself off. Then makes the leap of faith from his bed to the desk, beginning to walk up to the food. George quickly grabs her and sighs, then lets her out of the bedroom so she didn’t get agitated with limited space.

He looks at the food quietly. It had been things that were part of his diet. Bread, fruit, some celery with peanut butter and a few crackers on the side. Which meant Sapnap had essentially gone to the store and bought a lot of items specially for him. 

George sat at his desk and stared long at the food. Admittedly he wasn’t hungry. He just didn’t feel the urge to eat or fuel his body. So he waited, staring at the food absentmindedly while the time passed. 

Eventually he made himself eat at least the bread, but it didn’t make him feel all the great. George leaned back in his chair and looked up at his wall.

The wall was decorated with medals and a few trophies from when he was a child, there were scattered photos of him and his family. A few with his coach and older mates from when he was younger. 

It was nostalgic. He loved skating, it was something that he wouldn’t give up for the world. Which led him back into the thoughts of if he never got better… he’d never skate again. It hurt to think about.

His coach was like his father. Someone who was only looking after him and making sure that he wasn’t pushing himself too much. A father that didn’t belittle him or make him seem inferior. 

George’s phone goes off and he answers it with a small,  _ hello. _

“Hi George, it’s Dr. Franklin, your blood tests came back in. To put it as simple as possible, it appears you’re slightly malnourished and your blood sugar levels are very low. We recommend therapy and we can also get you to a psychiatrist to get you medicated if you need it. I’ll also get you in for therapy sessions that would be at least twice a week—“ she talks about other things that are less important, but ultimately gets then the conclusion of everything she was talking about, “So you do have an eating disorder based on lab tests and the answers you’ve provided us with. However, we’re lucky you came in now because while eating disorders are always serious, you are still on the line of it. It won’t be cured, but it will be easy for you to get back on track with your weight.”

“I see,” George said, “Thank you, doctor.”

“Oh no worries!” she said, “We will do biweekly check ins on your weight, if you have lost weight instead of gained we will have to take further action.”

George sighs, “Just forward me the information about the psychiatrist through email, I’ll get the appointment set up and I can meet with you afterwards whenever you’re available.”

It wasn’t a good time for so much to be happening at once. The Grand Prix was coming up fast and he was being held back because of concerns for his health, which he assumed wasn’t the worst but he felt overwhelmed. 

The call is concluded, then George feels a sensation of anger almost wash over him. He presses his nails into his face and bites his lip to resist the urge to scream. He didn’t want to tell Sapnap, but he knew that he would have to. Then he’d hear the ‘I told you so’ speech that he gives when he turns out being right. 

His phone pings again and he wants to throw his phone across the room, but holds himself back and looks down at it.

**_Maybe: Dream_ **

_ i know you want nothing to do with me and you don’t even have to respond to this but… whatever. i hope you’re okay. we all saw you pass out the other day and it was terrifying. i carried you off the ice and your coach almost called the ambulance but i told him not to. i don’t think you like hospitals… or what do i know. but yeah. i was scared even though we aren’t on good terms, because you hold yourself to such a high standard and have such a high moral ground that seeing someone so strong crumble like that was scary. but anyways, i hope you’re fine now. sorry it took a few days i didn’t know whether or not to message you. _

George rereads the message a million times. He doesn’t like Dream, no, but it doesn’t change the fact the message was still sort of… sweet. He closes his eyes, there was a nagging force in his mind that told him to respond, while his pettiness didn’t want him to. But he caved. 

**_To: Dream_ **

_ Thank you. I’m okay. _

He stared for a moment, then typed one more thing out.

**_To: Dream_ **

_ :] _

He’s about to close his phone when another text appears.

**_LeLe_ **

_ George? I heard there was an incident at your practice when I went to go see you today. Is everything okay? I’m a med student, you know. I can help you— a little bit. I’m not licensed or anything. But if you need anything I can help you out. _

George smiles slightly, his heart slightly warming that Leo went to go see him. But maybe it was for the better, he wouldn’t know what to do if he saw Leo again. But he misses Leo.

**_To: LeLe_ **

_ I miss you  _ |

_ I mis _ |

_ I _ |

George takes a deep breath, then typed out a different message.

**_To: LeLe_ **

_ Thank you for checking up on me. I’m okay, I hope you’re doing well too. :) _

He finally tosses his phone off the bed and walks out of his room, Sapnap is laying on the couch typing away at his laptop. Vertigo is sleeping on his feet, and the TV is muted.

George speaks, “I’m sorry.”

Sapnap slightly jumps and looks behind him, and sighs, “George.”

“I really am, I promise I’m getting help beyond a stupid eating disorder,” George said, “I’m sorry I was mean to you. For yelling at you, for not telling you anything. The lab results only proved that I was malnourished and that my blood sugars were low. I’m sorry, Sap. I’m so sorry.”

The younger male sets his laptop aside and gets off the couch, walking over to George. He smiles, “I wasn’t ever mad at you, George. I’m just constantly worried about you. I’m sorry for yelling at you too, okay? You’ll be okay, we’re best friends. I’m always going to be here for you.”

George allows Sapnap to bring him into a hug, it’s warm and Sapnap holds him tightly, “I love you, brother.”

“I love you too,” George said quietly, soaking in the warmth of his best friend’s hold.

It’s a long way to being okay. But sometimes the long way is the only way.

——

George arrived at his next practice, only expecting to stay for half of it as he had appointments to get to. His coach talked to him and made sure that he ate, drank water, and rested well enough before even allowing him to touch the ice. 

Dream was sparing glances at him every now and then, but whenever George looked back at him he’d look away. He found it quite annoying that the other would just stare at him for no reason. 

Well, he found everything the hockey player did annoying. He was quite insufferable and picked up on the small things to hold against him later. He also compared him to a kitten, which overall was annoying and George wanted to slap him for it. 

But he was in dire need of controlling his anger and slapping strangers is socially unacceptable. George knows he’s punched Dream, and slapped him and pushed him down onto the ice, but he had to overcome those things. He couldn’t just continue letting Dream walk on his nerves to get a rise out of him.

Even while he practiced he could still feel the lingering gaze. During his routine his brain sometimes went back to when the hockey players banged in the glass. He thinks back to Dreams words.

_ —“You know what George?” he says, “You are a bitch. No matter what no one can ever please you, you're so full of yourself that you don’t even give people a chance. Try to be a little more of a decent human than a cold hearted bitch.” _

_ “Really? Not even your own parents seem to love you,” his words are harsh, and he seems to recognize the mistake he made almost immediately, going to say something again but the damage has been done.— _

George slows down after one of his toe loops and looks across the rink. The hockey players were watching something on one of the teammates phones, but Dream was watching him. He catches his breath and raises a brow, then offers the middle finger to him.

Dream jolts and looks away, making George roll his eyes. He fixes his gloves and shirt before skating off to the exit of the rink. 

“Here’s a water, George, you can head out whenever you need to, great practice today,” his coach smiled, “I’m proud of you. You’re improving and even though there are setbacks right now you’re not letting that get in the way of your practice. It takes a strong person to get through what you’ve been going through.”

His coach leaves after that to go talk to the rest of his teammates, so George rests on the bench. He feels shaky after practice, a little more than usual, but he calms his body down before he decides to get ready to leave. George looks at his hands after taking his gloves off, they’re dry and the tips are blue. He hums slightly and looks back up at the ice.

After a few more minutes he finally decided it was time to pack up and leave. He bids goodbye to his mates and heads out the doors of the ice rink.

Sapnap would be there to pick him up at any minute. 

His phone pings and he fishes it out of his back pocket, it most likely being his parents asking what he is up to. But it’s not them. 

**_Maybe: Dream_ **

_ whenever ur free, can we please talk? there’s a lot we need to sort out. i don’t want to be your enemy. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading!!! I really hope you guys enjoyed this chapter. I know I’m pushing out chapters so fast but I have a lot of goals to reach for this fic! I hope you guys will enjoy it all.
> 
> I’m also thankful for the love you guys give me, it truly makes me so happy you guys have no idea. 
> 
> Stay safe!!
> 
> Also my pronouns are he/him for anyone that would like to know. :)))


	8. We Meet Again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> George meets Dream... in a new light?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Omg! I am so so sorry that this update has come out so late! I had some personal matters to deal with but I finally bring you chapter 8!
> 
> This chapter is much more lighthearted, happy, and only a bit of angst at points. More so at the end of this chapter!!! 
> 
> CW same for last chapters, except only really mentioned except the beginning!!!! I told you it gets better!!! I don’t lie!
> 
> Also I hope you guys will like this, it’s pretty much a filler so no ice skating is happening during this fic and it focuses more on building relationships and gaining strength back. :) and this isn’t beta read at all, so many errors probably I’m sorry!!!
> 
> As always, feedback on figure skating always welcomed!! I really would love it!
> 
> Enjoy everyone!

**_Maybe: Dream_ **

_ whenever ur free, can we please talk? there’s a lot we need to sort out. i don’t want to be your enemy. _

-

George ignored the text for the first half of the week. He had too much to do, and being burdened with the idea that he would have to probably make up with Dream, was all too much on him. 

When he went in to see the psychiatrist, it was the same things as he remembered. Long tests, hundreds of questions, two different people seeing him. And two days later he would walk in, they’d talk more, and then they would talk to him about medications and his diagnosis. 

Today was that day, he was going to get answers, and his anxiety was worse than it had been when he started to get back on the ice a month ago. 

Sapnap drove him to the psychiatrist and waited in the car for him, not wanting to be intrusive. 

George’s hands are shaking when he sits down in the waiting room, and he looks around to see tired mothers with small children running around them, teenagers looking grungy next to their parents, and elderly people reading the magazines provided. 

He felt unbelievably anxious, but in a way he felt relieved. He knew that it wasn’t going to be something that would be cured, but he would have something to at least control him for once. Sometimes it was okay to not be in power all the time, especially when he couldn’t even control his own emotions. 

“George Davidson?” a middle aged woman called, and a few glances went around the room, ultimately locking on him when he stood up. 

George awkwardly followed the woman into a small room, where there was a couch and a desk for her to sit at.

“Welcome back, George, how are you feeling?” she smiled, and George shrugged.

“I’m okay, I think,” he responded, “So.. the results?”

“Right into it, I see,” she chuckled, “With proper analysis and testing I believe you to have ODD, or Oppositional Defiant Disorder, it’s a disorder that is generally diagnosed in children, so if you’ve been dealing with this since you were a child it’s strange your parents didn’t try to get you into therapy at a younger age. The disorder causes irritability, aggression, anti-social behavior, and anxiety.”

“Oh,” George said, “That’s all it is?”

She looked at her papers, “Well, no, we also will be putting you on antidepressants. While you’ve said you haven’t experienced extreme thoughts of suicide and such you do test correctly for mild to severe depression your depression may cause further issues down the line which is why we’ve not put you directly into the mild or severe.”

_ Depression _ . George thinks to himself,  _ of course.  _

“It may have also been a factor that caused you to give into your eating disorder, which is another common part of people with depression,” she says, “With your ODD we will require you to attend therapy sessions twice a week and then with your depression we will be medicating you. Now, the medication doesn’t work immediately. It’ll take two or three weeks at most until you really start feeling a difference.”

After a little while more of talking, George leaves and gets into the car where Sapnap was waiting. He smiles at George, “How’d it go?”

“Um, something to do with therapy for my anger issues and it’s called Oppositional Defiant Disorder, which is like something children get diagnosed with. And then depression, which I’m going to be medicated for,” George holds up the slip in his hands to show he needs to get his medication, and waves it, “Fucked in the head.”

“Hey, don’t say that man, you’re still human,” Sapnap pays his shoulder, “Don’t talk down on yourself. This will help you.”

George nods, “Yeah, can’t wait to explain this one to my parents.”

Sapnap sighed, then started up the car, “Well fuck what your parents have to say. This is about you not them.”

George only nods in response, and looks out the window.

——

He stares at the text Dream sent him for another hour, his brain felt like mush, and George assumed it was because he wasn’t used to the lack of practice all of the sudden, his body confused as to where the exercise had gone. To be fair, it was more so him pushing himself to the limits in the small time period he was at practice, then collapsing in his bed at home. 

George drops his phone next to him and looks at his cat who was sleeping peacefully next to him. Vertigo was not leaving his side the past few days, no matter what she clung to him.

Maybe it was separation anxiety that she was facing, but George wouldn’t know. All he knew is that Vertigo would do anything to be with him and Sapnap would complain that she just cries at his door when he’s gone.

He grabs his phone again and opens the text from Dream, staring at it once more before typing out a response.

**_To: Dream_ **

_ Ok. Where do you want to meet? _

If he was going to get better, that meant clearing up any bad blood or interference with his feelings. He needed peace for once, and having bad blood with an idiot of a hockey player wasn’t going to give him that.

The reply comes immediately.

**_Dream_ **

_ :D!!!  _

_ can u meet in the park where we last talked at 4? _

George rolls his eyes almost, but typed out a  _ yes.  _

It was 3:30. So George changed into more comfortable clothes, just a sweatshirt and his converse, then woke up Vertigo to bring with him to the park. She seems happy enough when George locks the harness around her and hooks the leash, immediately trotting to the door while meowing.

“Vertigo, you’re going to trip me!” George scolded softly, then opened the door to let both of them out. 

The walk to the other side of town was peaceful, it felt like a breath of relief finally getting out of the stuffy apartment and into nature. 

When he walks up to the park, Vertigo lays down in front of it and George takes a deep breath, swearing under his breath. There were no complications up until now, so George squats down, “You were fine a second ago, Vert, get up!”

The cat rolls onto her back and stretches her small limbs, making George frown, “So you decide that the concrete is better than a comfy bark bench, my lap, or the grass? You are so—“

“George?” a raspy voice says behind him, recognizing it as Dream, making him practically jump out of his skin, “Sorry did I scare you?”

George picks the cat up and turns to Dream, “No— um, sorry. Let’s go.”

Dream laughs slightly, then holds out an arm for George to lead the way. His towering figure makes George nervous, not in a bad way, it’s just intimidating to him. He hadn’t been this close to Dream in weeks and Sapnap was around the same height as him so it was a little scary.

They settle on a park bench and Vertigo sits on his lap, staring up at Dream.

“I didn’t know you had a cat,” Dream commented, “What’s its name?”

“Her name is Vertigo,” George said, “I found her a few weeks ago, she’s been attached to me ever since.”

“She’s adorable,” Dream comments, “Can I pet her?”

George nods, then looks at the ground, “You wanted to talk?”

“Yeah, about everything,” Dream sighed, “I’m not a perfect person. I can be well, insufferable, I guess. But I don’t want this conversation to go as if I’m excusing all my actions.”

George looks up at Dream, nodding for him to continue, “And I’m just… I’m so sorry, George. I feel horrible after everything, it makes me lose sleep because I’ve been thinking of all the ways to apologize to you,” Dream leans back on the park bench, looking away from the cat, “Every time though, something had to happen. Something got in the way. I don’t want to be your enemy George, I don’t want to be a burden on your shoulders because you can’t stand the sight of me.”

“Okay,” George said, “I don’t mean to bring things up, but my teammate Dylan talked about you boasting about getting me injured. You called me a bitch, and other names. You told me my parents don’t love me. I mean Dream, my list can go on.”

“And I know, I was stuck up because I’m not used to people hating me, I felt the need to just act the same right back and took it too far,” Dream replied, “I don’t mean anything I said. None of it, I think you’re an amazing skater and probably an even better person. You also don’t take shit from anyone and I guess I was jealous of that, once I’m criticized I act out and just feel like crap.”

“You did stupid things,” George begins, “And you hurt my feelings sometimes. Even when I didn’t do anything to necessarily provoke it…”

“I know, and I’m so fucking sorry George, for absolutely everything, from the day we met to what happened in the coffee shop, I’m  _ so  _ sorry,” Dream looks as if he was going to cry, “You don’t have to be my friend. You don’t need to accept my apology either, but I just—“

“Okay, listen and don’t cut me off again,” George let’s Vertigo hop off his lap and into the grass, then closes his eyes, “I was going to say, that even though you did stupid things, you going out of your way to ask me to meet personally, coming to meet me, and apologizing without anything forcing you to shows me your character. So I forgive you.”

Dream perks up, “Seriously?” he smiles, he goes to hug him but George places a hand on his shoulder, and quirks his eyebrow.

“Hold on, big guy, if anything we’re going to be friends before there’s any hugging going on, or touching for that matter,” George said, “I’m not a very touchy person. I like my space, okay? I will forgive your apology and we can work on a friendship.”

“Thank you, George, I understand completely,” Dream said, “And I’m sorry. I’m kinda, uh, big on affection with friends and family. I love hugs and cuddling so i guess that was my first instinct. Sorry,” Dream says sheepishly, then looks away.

“You’re really like a little puppy aren’t you?” George rolled his eyes, “Whatever, it’s cute I guess.”

“You think I’m cute?”

“That is  _ not _ what I said, Dream!” George scolds, “I said it’s cute. Puppies are cute.”

“And you called me a puppy,” Dream smirked, “So, what kind of dog am I, George? A golden? Husky? A Labrador—“

“A Chihuahua,” George snarked back, “A little angry and annoying dog.”

“Hey!” Dream said, “I’m not even small!”

“Yeah, yeah,” George waved off, “Is there anything else you wanted to say?”

“Not really, but I wanted to ask you how you were doing, like in person, text can’t convey emotions as well as talking face to face,” Dream hums, “So are you okay?”

“Up, yeah there were a few things that have been going on, but I’m sorting it out, you know?” George laughs a little, “Uh, and you?”

“Me?” Dream replies, “Oh I’m good, well I am now. I was really anxious about today.”

“Sorry, I don’t mean to make you overthink,” George said, “I probably owe you an apology too. For the other day, or weeks ago when I screamed at you because you were making sure I was fine.”

“It’s okay!” Dream says immediately, “Like really, it’s fine, you looked incredibly frustrated and I wasn’t a saint in that situation either.”

Vertigo meows and claws at George’s pants and meows, making the man jump and look down at her.

“What’s wrong kitty?”

She circles his legs and suddenly gets a burst of energy and sprints off, making the leash snap away from George’s hand and she dashed away. George runs after her immediately, but gets a wave of dizziness and falls onto his knees, 

“Fuck,” George said, “Vertigo!” 

He felt lightheaded, his mind tried to piece together if he ate today or not, before feeling someone help him to his feet.

“You collapsed again,” Dream said, “Are you okay?”

“My cat, she ran away,” George tried to move forwards, but Dream stopped him, “Dream, please.”

“I’ll go look for her, you stay on the bench okay?”

George tried to protest, but Dream just brought him to the bench to sit down, “You collapsed, just rest. I’ll look everywhere for her okay?”

He takes off and George sighed heavily, cursing his body. Vertigo never ran off like that as long as he’s been taking her out for walks and had her in his care. 

_ How could I be so stupid? _

_ Why didn’t I hold the leash stronger? _

George felt like crying, everything that could go wrong went wrong. His heart kept getting stepped on, as if the world was just taking everything bad and shoving it down his throat. 

His parents always knew that he wouldn’t be able to take care of a pet growing up. They either said he would get too distracted or wouldn’t be a good parent to the animal, and he believed them for so long until he found Vertigo. 

—

_ “Mother!” George said as they passed by a pet store, his eyes glimmered with happiness as he looked at the small animals jump around and play, “Can we please get a cat!” _

_ “George we’ve talked about this, no means no,” his father said, “You are a child and we are never home. We have no room for a stupid animal.” _

_ “But cats are not even that much to handle,” George smiled, “You know they clean themselves, they are quiet, and very gentle animals! I promise, a girl in my class has one and she talks about and shows pictures of it all the time!” _

_ George tugged on his Mom’s hand, “Please! I will take care of it!” _

_ “We said no!” his mother scolded, “You are an immature child, you are learning your manners and behaving as we want you to. Being disobedient after we tell you no just proves how horrible of a child you are.” _

_ The small boy stills and looks up at his mom, “But I do so well in figure skating and I’m getting the best grades in my class.” _

_ “You can always do better though,” he father commented offhandedly, “We are going home. You’re in your room for the rest of the weekend except figure skating.” _

_ — _

When he found the small fluffy cat, meowing at him for a home, he just caved, and he wasn’t a horrible parent, Vertigo was a happy cat. At least that’s what he thought. He puts his hands on his face and cries, wanting to just go home to his room and be alone. 

Not in the open like this. Where  _ everyone  _ could see him.

It feels like hours have passed, but Dream rushes back with the fur ball that is Vertigo in his arms. He’s smiling and he quickly comes to stand by George.

“She was meowing at a man for his food, and he was giving it to her!” Dream chuckled, “Vertigo is a silly cat.”

George is staring at Dream, his eyes red and glassy. 

Dream sets the cat down and holds the leash tightly, “George?”

Before the taller man could speak, George flung himself into Dream and wrapped his arms around his body. Dream cautiously hugged him back, straightening the both of them out so it didn’t look awkward.

“Hey, hey,” Dream whispered, “It’s okay, she’s alright.”

“Thank you,” George said, “Thank you so much.”

They hug for a while longer, before George realizes what he’s doing and jumps back, “I’m sorry, I don’t know what came over me.”

“It’s okay, it’s a natural reaction,” Dream shrugged, “You’re a good hugger though. Why don’t you do them more often?”

“Well, the only person I hug is Sapnap,” George rolls his eyes, “I don’t even give him that many hugs.”

George diverts the conversation by picking up Vertigo and hugging her tightly, “I’m sorry. You’re probably hungry, girl.”

Dream watches them intently, slightly smiling at the two of them, “She’s a beautiful cat.”

“I know, she’s cuddly and attached at the hip to me, she’s a silly little cat,” George kisses the side of the cats face and grins, “But I think she’s hungry, so I should probably get home.”

“Do you need a ride back?” Dream asked, “I drive, so if you need a ride home I can give you one?”

George thinks for a moment, he wouldn’t know what to do if Vertigo were to run off again, and he still felt weak— god knows what would happen if he were to pass out on the walk home.

“That would be really nice, thank you, Dream,” George nods, “I think it’s best for the situation.”

“Of course,” Dream says, “Let’s go.”

Their drive back is quiet for the most part, besides Vertigo walking all around the car and jumping on Dream’s lap every now and then to look out the opposite window. George would laugh and have to pull her back into his lap.

It felt normal, like with a friend. Deep down George was still scared that Dream would hurt him. It wasn’t that he didn’t believe Dream wasn’t sorry, more so that he wasn’t sure they’d fall back into budding heads with each other. Their personalities clashed, so George was nervous something would lead to another dispute of some sort.

He also knew that Sapnap wasn’t going to let Dream off the hook as long as he lived, the amount of times George had complained about Dream to him and Sapnap swore he’d step in… it was too many times. He doesn’t know what his reaction would be, probably telling him to be careful or not push it further than acquaintances.

They pull up to the apartment, and Dream speaks first, “Um, be careful. And take care of yourself. Friends, right?”

George nods quickly, “Yes I’m okay. You too, and yeah, friends, of course.”

They bid goodbyes and George enters the apartment with a shaky breath, immediately going to the kitchen to get a drink of water. A nagging force in his mind told him to eat something, but he wasn’t  _ hungry.  _ And his intuition told him that if he wasn’t hungry, he shouldn’t eat, so he didn’t get anything.

Sapnap emerged from the depths of his bedroom and leaned against the counter, “Who were you with?”

“Just a friend… from ice skating, you know,” George shrugged and put his empty glass in the sink, turning around, “How was work?”

“It was a good, pretty slow day,” Sapnap pet Vertigo, who had jumped on the counter and sighed, “Did you eat today?”

“Yeah, I ate with my friend, some tiny restaurant she wanted to bring me to,” George lied, his throat slightly clogging up, “Um, I took Vertigo with me cause we could sit outside.”

Sapnap raised a brow, “Cool, I’ll make dinner tonight.”

George resisted a flinch, “Okay, I have some warm ups to do and stretches so just tell me when it’s done.”

He went back to his room and shut the door quickly, mentally cursing at himself for lying to Sapnap, doubting Dream’s sincerity, and just everything. The small medicine bottle sat on the dresser, which reminded him he needed to take his meds.

George frowned and walked up to the dresser, grabbing the bottle and sighing, “Why am I so tucked up?”

Silence falls in his room, but it is broken by the constant dinging of his phone in his back pocket. He pulls it out, checking who the sudden onslaught of messages were coming from.

**_Mother_ **

_ You haven’t said anything to us in days, weeks almost. You best be doing what you can to be perfect. I also don’t appreciate the fact I have to find out from a family friend she saw you at a psychiatric clinic. You need to explain everything that’s going on. Now. George I do what’s best for you and going behind my back and doing these things that will not benefit you embarrasses me. _

**_Mother_ **

_ I’m very disappointed at the moment to call you my son. _

**_Mother_ **

_ I love you, but you are hurting my feelings. You don’t talk to me anymore. _

**_Father_ **

_ Your mom is so upset. What did you do this time? She cannot even focus on her work. She is enraged. Fix this immediately. _

**_Dream_ **

_ hi george, thank you for giving me a chance. i truly think your a great person and i’m glad we could settle things maturely :)))) to a new friendship!!!! ☺️☺️ stay safe and take care of yourself. _

George stares at his phone, his heart hammering in his chest,  _ fuck.  _

Just  _ fuck.  _

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!!! Ahh I really hope this was a blanket for the heart after all the hurt. Please take care of yourselves! 
> 
> Hehe any ideas for next chapter >:]
> 
> Also I’m so thankful again for all the love. Truly wouldn’t get this far without you guys. <3


	9. Loud Noises

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s the loud noises, of course.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys! I’m so incredibly sorry for the late update. I’ve had so much go on but!!! Luckily I got a chapter for you!
> 
> Usually my chapters range from 3-4K... but for all the love I’ve been given, I made this chapter a little longer. It’s 5k... but I hope it’s good enough. I really really appreciate the love on this. It’s so motivating and makes me so happy to see. You guys make my day, week even. Thank you so much 🥺
> 
> Okay, so the content warnings. You know how I added the humor tag? Yep yep this isn’t a content warning I just thought I’d say I added some light hearted banter and laughs for you guys <3 Actual content warnings include (but not described, only implied) of throwing up. Bad parenting, mental health talks, and other warnings I’ve included in previous chapters.
> 
> Once again, open for help on figure skating stuff because I am still a little weak on it! Let’s do this <3
> 
> Also not beta read at all... as for my other chapters too... oops

George had to call his mom. He knew that it would probably be the longest and most dreadful call of his life. But he waits, he waits until after dinner, after he and Sapnap watch a movie, after he exercises lazily in his room for practice the next day.

He holds his phone in his hands and thinks of how this conversation could go. There’s a one in million chance he’d in the end get moral support, but not that the support would be colorful, it’d be a grey area. His mother would pretend to be giving him support but somehow find a way to ruin his progress to fit into what she wants him to be. 

The phone rings twice before his mother picks up, her voice stern but calm on the other side when she says, “So you call now?”

George’s stomach twists slightly in fear, and all he can say is, “I’m sorry.”

When she starts to speak about the embarrassment she feels from her son doing things behind his back, he starts to get a sense of resentment wash over him, “Do you care about me? Or do you want me to be controlled by your every wish, just being a zombie of a son?” he wishes he didn’t say it, but he does. His heartbeat speeds up, and George’s hands slightly shake when he hears the sharp inhale of his mother.

“I’m just doing what’s best for you—“

George cuts her off, “No you're not.”

“George, that is no way to speak to your mother—“

He does it again, “I have an eating disorder. Say I’m lucky to have come in as soon as I did. I’m thirty pounds underweight and now I have to go to the doctors biweekly. I’m exhausted constantly, I feel fragile at points. I had an undiagnosed personality issue revolving around anger, therapy’s twice a week now. I’m lucky I can pay for it on my own,” George inhaled sharply, “Depression. Mild or severe, she said it’s a mixture of both. Did you break me into pieces, tell me you loved me when you denied me basic health check ups, refused to bring me back to a psychiatrist when I was younger, and cause me to have resentment towards eating and gaining weight because you’re doing what’s best for me?”

His mother is quiet, and George sniffs, “Or the times you locked me in my room for misbehaving, told me I’m a bad kid, and almost made me practice when I was sixteen and ruptured my achilles tendon and almost never skated again?”

“Listen George, you’re misunderstanding me and your father, we aren’t doing this to make you perfect, we’re doing it because we know you’re capable of doing anything,” she says sweetly, “When me and your father were figure skaters we won every competition and dominated the ice by a landslide. The only reason we didn’t go to the olympics is because I had you when I was seventeen.”

George’s confidence drops, his eyes burn for a second, “So you’re taking the resentment of not being able to go to the olympics out on me? Was I some sort of accident that ruined your lives? So instead of being angry about it, you made your only child a carbon copy of you but worse?”

“No!” his mother said quickly, “Baby, listen it’s nothing like that, you just were unexpected and we wanted you to have a set future.”

“Do you even care?” George asked, “About anything about me when it’s not ice skating?”

“George, baby—“

He hangs up immediately, not wanting to hear anything she wants to say. His hands to his hair, it’s become slightly overgrown, unusual to his usually shorter hair. But he didn’t feel like getting his haircut. His motivation had drained for basic care towards himself.

It’s come to his undivided attention he's starting to do things because he has to, not because he wants to. 

George feels a nagging in his stomach, most likely from the dinner he ate a few hours ago. He rests his eyes for a second, trying to distract himself from the annoyance of the nausea. 

It doesn’t stop though, so he pulls himself up into his bathroom and rests his hands on the countertop, lazily turning the water on and looking towards the toilet. 

This wasn’t going to help him get better, it’d turn into a poor excuse of a cycle that would happen, but George has never liked the feeling of being sick. So he does what he shouldn’t, getting on his knees and finishing the job himself. 

He lays back when he’s finished, up against the wall and ignores his brain attacking itself for giving into the urges, but he feels a little better. That’s all that matters to him. George stands up and brushes his teeth, then exits the bathroom with a sigh. Sapnap’s music plays faintly in the background, otherwise the apartment is fairly quiet. 

Vertigo had made herself comfortable on the couch, napping away with the muted television being the only light source.

“Vert,” he calls, “Come on, girl, let’s go to my room.”

The cat awakens sleepily and stretches her small body, then happily trotting towards George and rubbing against her.

“Sorry for waking you up, but I’m going to need someone to sleep through the night with.”

When he re-entered his room, the light slightly blinded him, making him flinch. But Vertigo happily trotted to his bed and laid back down, falling asleep immediately. George looked momentarily in the mirror in front of him, taking in his lanky and exhausted appearance. He looked dead, his face was sunken and his eyes were bloodshot— god knows from what. George couldn’t stand looking at himself anymore. It’s gotten to the point he didn’t recognize himself. 

It was hard being someone you didn’t mean to become. Thankfully though, a major stress in his life was gone. Hopefully replaced with friendship, or something. He knew somewhere inside of him that knew from the beginning Dream wasn’t a terrible person. George was just someone who held grudges and one thing that upsets him just makes his brain refuse to accept anything else about said person.

Or he didn’t really know if he actually knew, maybe he was telling himself he didn’t think Dream was a terrible person because he didn’t want to accept he was just… well, a horrible person.

A horrible person would be described as someone who is mean, harmful towards others, has no regard for others feelings, and half the time he knew that some of those parts were true about himself. Maybe he could blame it on the way he grew up, surrounded by emotionally inept parents and bullying (though he didn’t want to call it that) in school. Or maybe it was the lack of comfort he felt from anyone in general, being reserved and not affectionate.

George never liked affection. He was never given it as he grew up, the only time he could recall getting a hug from his parents was when he was a young child. That had been when he first started doing figure skating though. They said he deserved one because he did well that day.

Ever since then he blamed his lack of affection and care from his parents on his inability to ever be good enough. Hell, he didn’t really think he wanted it anyways. 

He hugged Sapnap of course, but only because Sapnap was the biggest baby to exist and thrived off of touch and love from his friends and family. But emotionally Sapnap was strong, he dealt with things head-on. Unlike himself who cowered at the thought of ever snapping at his parents ever again. He doesn’t mind doing it to people he doesn’t know, because they don’t matter to him. Though he supposes he crossed that one out when he fought with Dream…

It didn’t matter, George didn’t care. He just shut off his light and laid in his bed, but didn’t sleep for the next hour or so. Opting to stare at the movie that had been playing on his ceiling, he supposed.

Bright and early in the morning, he managed to make himself a small breakfast before his practice. Vertigo had occupied the sink, Sapnap was still sound asleep in his bedroom, and George was silently sitting at the kitchen counter. There was an hour before his practice, so he just stared at the clock until there was only thirty minutes left.

But his thoughts had been interrupted by an onslaught text message, bringing his phone out he was quite caught off guard.

**_Dream_ **

_ hi _

_ so _

_ do u need a ride to practice lolll had to drop something off at my parents house and ummm _

_ ur apartment happened to be close by _

_ and i mean if u already left it’s ok _

_ haha _

_ ha _

_ pls tell me u didn’t leave yet _

**_To: Dream_ **

_ I didn’t  _

**_Dream_ **

_ ok good xd Ur neighbor is looking at me weirdly . i think he hates me _

**_To: Dream_ **

_???????????!!!!!!!!! _

George abruptly stands and opens his front door, and he sees Dream awkwardly talking to his neighbor— an old man who doesn’t like anyone he doesn’t recognize. He almost wants to laugh at it, because Dream is frantically trying to explain and he’s using his hands to describe something.

He says goodbye to Vertigo then grabs his keys and backpack, then quickly throws his skates over his shoulder and runs out.

“Mr. Wayne, it’s okay, he’s my ride today!” George calls, “How’s your flower garden.”

“Oh!” the old man drops his facade and places his hands on his hips, “Oh, George Davidson. Always so nice. My garden is going wonderful, I got plenty of new flowers for Sherry, she loves them already.”

“That’s great!” George smiles, “I’m sure you already have the best garden in the city.”

Mr. Wayne wobbles to his mailbox, “What’s your little friend's name?”

“Dr—“

“I’m Clay, I’m a hockey player for the Panthers!” Dream says, cutting George off, “George needed a ride today, so I swung by.”

“Oh, wait!” Mr. Wayne says, “You’re Jenny and Christian’s son, Clayton! My, I haven’t heard from them in years. I remember you when you were a young baby! You used to live around here and they’d bring me and my wife muffins.”

“Wow, small world huh?” Dream laughs, “I’ll be sure to tell them you said hello then. It was nice seeing you again, Mr. Wayne. Maybe I’ll have them bake you some fresh muffins?”

“Oh, please, it’s okay, you two get off to practice now.”

Mr. Wayne smiles and then gets his mail, heading back inside.

George sighs in relief, “He’s a wonderful man, truly, just protective of his neighbors so he doesn’t like seeing people he doesn’t know around here.”

Dream laughs, “I could tell. I was freaking out, sometimes I just kinda you know— go crazy when I’m under pressure. I talk too much sometimes when I’m nervous, my parents say that it’s probably because of my ADHD or I— I don’t know sometimes it’s just simply anxiety and you know other things. I find myself very talkative in those times and you know that gets me in a lot of trouble sometimes… I’m doing it again aren't I?”

“You are, but it’s fine, you can’t help it,” George hums, “Sometimes talking more is better than not talking at all.”

“You know, no one’s ever told me that,” Dream said, “I mean at least friends haven’t. My parents once have listened to me talk for hours and don’t say anything about it.”

“Well, you should talk all you want, sometimes talking is the best thing you can do,” George replies, “I’m not a talker. Perfect to listen to others talk than myself.”

Dream just grins and opens the door for George, “I’m really happy we’re friends, George. I was freaking out, when I went to apologize to you. I’m fairly… sensitive to rejection so I may act in absurd ways to prove myself and sometimes that fails.”

“It’s okay, and um, I’m glad we’re friends now too,” George says before Dream shuts the car door. The taller man gets in on the other side moments later and starts the car. George takes a deep breath, “And I’ve never been good with handling my anger. You know, just me. I’m sorry.”

The rest of the ride is fairly quiet, except the moments that Dream would talk about something and George would just listen and respond when necessary. 

Dream was an ecstatic speaker, he spoke in depth with anything and everything he spoke about. To be honest, Dream’s voice was calming. It reminded him of a familiar calmness he felt when he would sleep, or more exact when Leo would talk to him or sing to him so George could sleep. For a while it was a running joke that George found Leo’s voice so boring he’d fall asleep to it. But it wasn’t the case, George found Leo’s voice peaceful.

When George formally met Leo it was hard to not fall in love with him. His voice made George feel safe. Happy if anything, but it was hard hiding his infatuation with Leo from his parents. They didn’t know their only son was gay, nor did he know if they would react… well. So their relationship was a complete secret. All those sleepovers filled with secret touches and kisses, cuddling with the door locked, locking pinkies on the bus… and more sensual times when their parents weren’t home. Leo was his first for everything. 

So when Leo left, it felt like all those firsts were for nothing. It left a vacancy in his heart that he yearned to be filled. He missed Leo, but he knew how harmful it would be to him. Sometimes it’s better to let go because letting go… is the only way to heal.

“George?” Dream called, “You with me?”

George jumps slightly and looks to the blonde, “Oh, sorry I must’ve spaced out. How long was I spaced?”

“Well, I’d say about five minutes but I don’t have good time management so it could’ve been longer,” Dream says sheepishly, “Either way we’re here. Penny for your thoughts though?”

“I like your voice,” George immediately flinches and slaps a hand over his mouth, “I’m sorry—“

“What?” Dream laughs, “You don’t have to apologize.”

“I’m sorry I don’t know— I don’t know why I said that out loud,” George says, “It kinda just came out. I’m sorry.”

“Well, no offense was taken, so you don’t have to apologize,” Dream raises an eyebrow, “You got a nice voice too.”

George flushes, “Idiot.”

“An idiot with a nice voice,” Dream winks, “Let’s get inside.”

He grabs his bag from the back and gets out of the car, running up to the front and greeting his teammates with shoulder bumps. George rolls his eyes, then grabs his own things and gets out of the car the same time one of his own mates comes up to him.

She greets him and nudges his shoulder, “You and the hockey guy?”

“It’s nothing, he’s being nice,” George says immediately.

“I didn’t even say it was something,” she laughs, “Georgie do you have a crush?” 

“Grace!” George says, “I don’t. I don’t get crushes.”

“Okay, maybe you don’t, but something is different about you today!” Grace said, “You seem happier.”

“I don’t have an answer for that,” George points out, “Just woke up on the right side of the bed I’m guessing.”

Grace laughs, “You getting out of your bed on the left side not the right side majority of the time?”

“Real funny, Grace,” George teases, “Let’s talk about something else. How’s your double coming along?”

“I’m starting to land it more frequently,” Grace says, “My mom promised me ice cream if I got it down by the end of this week.”

“Up it, make it a new puppy or something,” George clicked, opening the door to the rink, “Doubles are hard. Puppies are harder. Your moms cheating the system.”

Grace gasps, “You’re right! I’ll tell her that, I’ll tell her my professional ice skating mate is a bad influence.”

“You won’t, you like puppies,” George smirks, “Favorite dog?”

“Easy, chihuahuas, small and sweet,” Grace replies, “You?”

“Cat person,” George responds, “My cat is an English shorthair.”

“You have a cat?” Grace gasps, “I love cats!”

“Get a cat,” George sets his bag on the bench, “Easy to take care of, low maintenance, clean themselves. Just like to eat a lot and scream in the middle of the night.”

“I’m totally asking for a cat,” Grace says excitedly, then drops her smile, “My mom’s allergic to cats.”

“Dog it is?”

“Yep, dog it is,” Grace laughs, then nods at their coach who’s walking towards them, “Hi Coach Sanchez!” 

“Hi Gracie,” he smiles, “Your mom get you that ice cream?”

“George told me to ask for a dog.”

“Of course he did,” his coach sighs, “See you’re enticing people again.”

“I just think doubles are hard,” George throws up his hands, “Harder tricks come with better prizes.”

“Grace, you let him entice you?” 

“He has a point,” Grace shrugged, “Dogs are cute.”

“She wants a chihuahua,” George smirks, “I love chihuahuas.”

_ “And you called me a puppy,” Dream smirked, “So, what kind of dog am I, George? A golden? Husky? A Labrador—“ _

_ “A Chihuahua,” George snarked back, “A little angry and annoying dog.” _

George shakes his head, “I love cats more.”

His gaze drifts over to Dream, who is hitting pucks around on the tile floor, “I really like cats.”

——

Practice was going swimmingly. He made it through two practice routines without feeling dizzy, and by the third one he finally took the will to sit down for a few minutes. He watched his other mates go through their routines, watching his coach go through some of the tricks with them, and ultimately in the end… he felt alright.

He feels the bench he’s sitting on shift, and George looks to the right to see Dream sitting next to him.

George was aware that Dream was taller than him. He was also bigger than him. In this moment he looks down at their legs and notices how  _ well _ large their size difference was. George inhaled sharply and looked away, it reminded him of Leo.  _ Everything reminds him of Leo. _

“Earth to George,” Dream waves a hand in front of his face with his hand, “How’s practice going?”

“Despite the dizziness, it’s okay,” George nodded, pressing his hands to his thighs, “You know I like cats more.”

“I know,” Dream said, “I can tell by your personality. Aloof, reluctant to trust, soft.”

“ _ You _ think I’m soft?”

“Lucky guess?”

“Furthest from soft,” George scoffed, “I’ve cursed you out at least ten times!”

“Who said I was talking about personality?”

“Dream you—“

“Glad to see you two are getting along,” George’s coach says suddenly, “Change of hearts?”

Dream says,  _ “He couldn’t get enough of me,” _ the same time George says,  _ “He apologized.” _

“Refer to the latter, Coach,” George rolls his eyes, “He apologized. I forgave him. I apologized too.”

Dream smiles, “Refer to the first one too.”

“Do not refer to the first one.”

“You two bicker like me and my wife,” his coach laughs, “Anyways. George you’ll practice for a bit more, then you can go home. As for you, Dream, tell your coach I said hello, because you’re going back over there. I don’t like when people bother my pupils during their practices.”

Dream nods, “That’s my cue to leave.” 

He pats George’s head and walks back over to his team, and George scowls, “I told him I don’t like being given affection.”

“But you said nothing until he left,” his coach wagged his finger at him, “What’s different with him?”

George sighs and closes his eyes, “He’s like this little dog. More like a big golden retriever, he’s hard to just be mean to now that I’ve gotten to know him. It’s been one day and I just can’t be mean to him.”

“So you like dogs?” Coach Sanchez takes a seat next to him, “Thought you found dogs annoying and scary.”

“I didn’t ever say that,” George said, “I said I’m scared of dogs. But I think dogs are cute.”

“So you were scared of Dream because you thought he was scary, until you got a little close to him and now you can’t ignore how soft of a person he is?” his coach hummed, “Seems like you like dogs.”

George whips his head to his coach, “You’re trying to imply that I like Dream, aren’t you?” 

“I didn’t say that, you said that and assumed that’s what I was saying,” his coach smiles, “Starting to feel like a dad.”

“Do dads assume the worst about their sons?”

“Is liking him so bad?”

George pauses for a moment, and thinks back to the moment in the car. His voice had reminded him of Leo. The warmth. 

“I suppose it’s not,” George patted his legs and stood up, “I’m going to get one more routine in. Thanks for the pep talk dad.”

He wasn’t sure he’d ever have a conversation like this with his actual dad, anyways.

——

“You’re George Davidson, correct?” the woman says politely, “I’m Dr. Madison, I’m going to be your therapist.”

“Okay.”

“So, let’s get into it, I hear you’re from England,” she says, “Did you like it there? It explains your accent.”

“Well, I didn’t experience much of England,” George explains, “Since I was seven I’ve been ice skating, at eight I move to America. Start lessons with Coach Luther Sanchez, one of the best coaches my parents could find. Practicing for ten years nonstop, I hit eighteen and my parents let me move out.”

“Did you get a sense of freedom from moving out?” she asks, “Most teenagers move out because they need a sense of freedom. It’s a common thing, nothing to be worried about.”

“That was the plan, but they became… well, move controlling,” George said, “I think losing the grip they had on me made them feel like they lost hold of the only thing they had in control.”

“So they took the opportunity to control you from the outside,” she finished, “So, I usually jump the gun on the first day. It gets my patients a little bit of time.”

“You’re going to ask what makes me upset, or gets me crying, but since I’m an adult late in life diagnosed with ODD you’ll say… what really ticks me off or makes me angry?” George sighs, “I’ll answer it. A lot of things. I don’t like loud noises, I hate assholes, I don’t like to sit still for too long and I hate people who think I’m a fragile little princess.”

“Well then,” Dr. Madison says, “There’s a lot to unpack here.”

“I’m told I’m a lot to handle.”

“You’re not a lot to handle, George, you’ve been denied by your parents to get help for your mental health for years,” she shuffles papers, “Negligence from parents does that. You’re pent up anger festers and along with your depression that went undiagnosed for years I assume it didn’t know what to do, so you lost control of your emotions often.”

George looks up, “People call me a bitch too. All the time. I used to not believe it.”

“Well, it’s not that you’re well, a  _ bitch,  _ you just didn’t have control of yourself,” she replied, “It doesn’t justify your actions but explains them.”

“An explanation would be an answer,” George said, “But there’s a lot of things that are not answered.”

Dr. Madison sighs, “That’s what I’m for. You talk, I listen. Your information is protected, I’m just a therapist. I am here to help you.”

“Help is a strong word for someone who doesn’t need it,” George replied, “I am on medication. Therapy isn’t needed.”

“Dr. Franklin mentioned an eating disorder to me,” she retorted, “Don’t want to talk about the anger problems we’ll talk about your eating disorder.”

George looks up, “It was my mom.”

“Blame the loved one?”

“Why wouldn’t I?” George said, “Before seventeen I never batted an eye to a scale. My mom mentions my weight, puts me on a diet, I lose weight. Then this ugly voice in my head feeds at my thoughts and makes them theirs.”

“Common in people with eating disorders to experience that,” Dr. Madison says, “What’s your favorite color.”

“Blue,” George said.

“Is there a reason?”

“I’m colorblind, it’s the only color I can see clearly, no reds, no greens, no in betweens,” George said, “Blues for everything.”

“I like blue too,” she responds, “It’s a primary color.”

“I don’t know primary colors,” George smiled, “But blue is the color of the sky. I love cloudless days.”

“Are you afraid of anything?”

“I wouldn’t say afraid, but during thunderstorms, since I hate loud noises my roommate gives me these headphones to block out the sound,” George stares at his hands, “I get panic attacks.”

“That’s new,” she said, “How long have they been going on?”

“Since I was a kid,” George thought for a second, then continued, “When I was young I’d hide in my parents closet. They’d have to drag me out. But their closet was the only place it was quietest.”

“So they forced you to listen to loud noises as a kid even though you were afraid,” Dr. Madison sits up on her chair, “Do your parents make you angry?”

George blinks, then clears his throat, “How much time do we have left?”

“All the time in the world, honey, you don’t have to talk, but do know I’ll be seeing you twice a week,” she smiled, “Just talk when you’re ready.”

George doesn’t talk. He can’t be forced to, if anything he’d get the same old information that his parents are abusive, and he knows they’re not. They love him, they just don’t know how to love him. His parents are young, his mom thirty-six, dad thirty-seven. Teenagers don’t know how to raise a baby, and resentment from losing your lifelong dream ends up being taken out on the accident— who’s name is George. He doesn’t think much of the fact he wasn’t planned, that his parents didn’t want a child in the first place.

It’s too much information to share, so he waits for the time to be almost up. 

And when it is, he stands up and sighs, “If it gets you anywhere, I was an accident, my mom was seventeen when she had me. Have a good day Dr. Madison.”

She stands up to say something, but George leaves the room and takes a deep breath. 

——

Sapnap is an annoyance when he wants to be.

“Was therapy okay?” he asked when they got in their apartment, “You were silent the entire car ride. You don’t have to tell me the details, I just want to know if it was okay.”

“The therapist is too smart, she knows how to outsmart my words,” George said, he strolled to the window and drew the curtains, “No matter the way I tell things, she picks the details and is able to say exactly what I avoid saying.”

“So she’s good at her job?”

“I would say so, but I’m not a therapist,” George remarked, “Non-therapists don’t know whether or not a therapist is good. They just know they’re a stranger. Who is damn good with advice.”

“So you’re saying you like her?”

“No, I don’t,” George responded, “I like men.”

Sapnap whines, and collapses on the couch, “You’re annoying.”

“Annoying people ask questions, did I ask you questions?”

“No, but—“

“Then you’re the annoying one,” George said, he looks at the sky, “What color is the sky?”

Sapnap furrows his eyebrows, “You’re the one asking questions now, you pest,” he walks next to George and looks up, “Oh.”

“Oh?” George said, “Do you think I can read your mind? I’m colorblind, not a mind reader.”

“You’re being awfully snarky today,” Sapnap huffs, “But it’s dark. Greenish and yellowish.”

“Ah,” George nods, “Oh goody, a storm is brewing.”

“Hey, it won’t be that bad alright? I got the head phones, we can lay in my bed,” Sapnap suggests, “What made you think to check the sky so soon?”

“Confidential information protected by HIPPA,” George said, and Sapnap’s face dropped like a kicked puppy, “We talked about fears. I got nervous, it felt weird today. I assumed there would be a storm. And there is.”

Sapnap smiled, “A storm that prince Sapnap will protect you from?”

“Sure, a prince,” George said, “I think princes are taller though. And not you.”

His chest settles with anxiety, the same anxiety he’s always gotten over storms and such. Sapnap leaves the room for a moment, leaving George to stare at the sky. Counting the seconds down till the thunder rolls in. George closes his eyes, and takes a deep breath.

_ Regulate my breathing ahead of time,  _ George thinks. He forces himself to move away from the window and sits on the couch. Just as a roll of thunder comes in, that causes him to flinch. It’s not the storms that scare him, well in a way it is, but the loud noises remind him of nothing good. He doesn’t remember when or where it came from, in fact a lot of his childhood is a grey area that decides to come back in flares. He is willing to take the probable cause it’s from his parents, but he isn’t sure. 

Sometimes fears are just meaningless. In his case, loud noises don’t do well with him.

George’s nails dig into his legs, but before anything Sapnap placed his headphones over his ears, making him look up.

Sapnap sends a finger heart and does a little dance, and probably says,  _ “Love you, Gogy.” _

Storms are scary. But the relief of knowing he’ll be okay in the end is what matters. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading and I really hope you enjoyed! Thank you for all the love again guys 😭 I didn’t expect it!!
> 
> I hope you liked this chapter! Theories always welcome LOLL. 
> 
> Have a wonderful weekend, I’ll do my best to update quickly!


	10. Falling Apart (Past)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A recollection of the past.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! This is a kinda short chapter but it gives insight to George’s past relationships and why he may be reluctant when it comes to love (in further chapters xd)
> 
> Also this is still slow burn so I will say nothing will really bloom for the two idiots until a little bit! So D: LOL IM SORRY!!!
> 
> Content warnings umm not much! Just the same thing with George’s parents being complete assholes and mental health related issues later on. 
> 
> I HEAVILY, SO HEAVILY!!! Recommend listening to Already Gone by Sleeping at Last while reading this <3 it’s in the Vertigo playlist! 
> 
> Anyways, thank you so much for all the love!! Thank you so so much! And criticism to figure skating welcomed 100%! If you have any ideas feel free to just comment, chances are I’ll use it!
> 
> AFTER THE SECTION BREAK IS PRESENT TIME!

George sits in the far back of the bus, his earbuds barely fit his ears but it did the job. He watched the trees pass by and the kids playing outside before they went to school themself. He tried to tune out the ruckus, but nothing really works on a bus full of high schoolers.

The weight on the seat sinks next to him and he looks to the right. Alan had gracefully taken a seat next to him.

He looked at him, “Oh don’t get too hot, it was a fucking dare to sit with the freak.”

George shifts and looks back out the window, sighing. Despite him and Leo being in a relationship, “Leo gets on soon. You don’t have to worry about being next to me for too long.”

“You’re such a loser,” Alan laughs, “I don’t even know what Leo sees in you. You’re boring, boring looking, you’ve got no qualities that make you a worthy person of Leo, so what is it?”

George shifts uncomfortably, moving away from Alan, “He likes me. He doesn’t think that about me.”

“It’s probably your body,” Alan smirks, “For a guy you’ve got the prettiest body to ruin.”

“Leo’s stop is next,” George whispered, “Go find another seat.”

“I think I’ll stay a bit,” Alan shrugs, “I like how small you look next to me. You’re like a scared little kitty.”

“Get away from me,” George seethed, “Quit fucking around and go sit somewhere else.”

“Oo, there’s the feisty George we all know,” he gets closer, “Did I strike a chord?”

Just as Alan says that, the bus comes to a stop and George finally relaxes, and Alan gets up to sit next to someone else. George still feels uncomfortable though, waiting until Leo comes to explain what happened. He hated to be one to always rat others out, but Alan tormenting him never stopped.

“Hi Georgie,” Leo smiled, sitting next to him, “Was Alan bothering you?”

“Am I boring?” George asked, “I’m sorry.”

“What?” Leo laughs softly, “Of course not, you’re the most interesting person to me.”

George smiles slightly, “To me you are too.”

Leo hooks their pinkies together.

Safe.

——

George’s bed springs with the impact of Leo’s body hitting it, he laughs slightly, “Do you know how obsessed your parents are with making sure we’re studying?”

“They think having friends is a sin,” George rolls his eyes, “Good thing you’re not a friend.”

He rolls next to Leo and straddles Leo’s waist, smiling down at him, “Did you lock the door?”

“Sure did,” Leo said, he sat up and wrapped his arms around George’s waist, “You know, sometimes being sneaky is fun.”

He kisses George and nips at the younger's bottom lip, “Your parents would go crazy if they knew,” Leo whispered, “But I can’t get enough of you.”

“Ditto,” George said, “Just think, when you and I move out we don’t have to worry about hiding behind closed doors.”

Leo pulls George closer, opting to hook his jaw around George’s shoulder as he sighs, “Two more years.”

“Are you coming to my practice tonight?”

“Do you want me to?”

“I’d like that,” George said, “But let’s study, so we at least get something done.”

“Or,” Leo draws out, he stands up with George still in his arms, then turns their bodies around, swooping down at pressing George down on the bed, “We could have some fun.”

“Not when my parents are home!” George scolded quietly, “They have ears like a hawk. They hear one noise we’re busted.”

Leo pouted, “My parents leave for work vacation on Friday, spend the weekend with me? I’ll take you to practice.”

“Sounds like a plan,” George kissed Leo, “Now can you please help me in chemistry. And not that kind of chemistry, babe.”

——

In winter, George’s competition came at him in full swing. His anxiety had been through the roof the entire month and now it was finally here which set George’s mindset into overdrive. Despite the constant reassurance from Sapnap and Leo, he still felt sick. Not only that, but he had to worry about he and Leo’s three month anniversary that would be taking place January 10th. 

George spent extra time practicing, and it was the night before his competition. He had been running through his routine countless times and getting used to the sudden song change (his coach suggested a more gentle song, and George had to admit he was right, it fit well). Despite everything he was still struggling to make his routine flow nicely. It was heavily taking a toll on his anxiety and the idea that he’d fail the competition entirely. Though this wasn’t an important competition, he had already had his major one back at the beginning of December, where thankfully he scored first. 

This was more of a small instate competition and it didn’t quite matter, but his parents requested he did it despite his coach saying he needed time to rest. His routine was slightly changed to fit the format of the smaller competition, but George still found it difficult to go right into changing his usual routine when he could’ve just done his other one.

Either way, he was stressed. 

After doing his triple axel, George had transitioned into his hydroplane and planned on doing that then transitioning into the entrance for his double lutz, which was a trick he had done for a while now. 

But his entrance must’ve been poor, because the moment his foot left the ice he felt a tear that he had never felt before, his body fell onto the ice immediately and he cried at the pain of his ankle.

Without thinking his coach had skated onto the ice and helped get his skates off, then carried him off the ice and sat him down on the bench. George was writhing in pain, and his coach had called for his parents to take him to the hospital, but apparently they were busy with work so his coach called for the next best thing which was Leo.

Leo had raced to the rink in record time, Sapnap following shortly behind him, and his boyfriend sat down in front of him. After all, Leo was taking courses in high school to train to be a doctor. Taking electoral classes because he didn’t have anything else to do— he was extremely smart.

His boyfriend had carefully taken off his sock, looking at his ankle, “George, what happened?”

“I don’t know— I just— it just was the worst pain I’ve ever felt,” George whispered, “Did I sprain my ankle?”

Leo inhaled sharply, then looked up at his small boyfriend, “It might be your achilles tendon. It’d be best if we get you to a hospital.”

George nodded softly, “Okay.”

The drive to the hospital had been dead silent, George was too upset to say anything and Leo had kept his hand on George’s thigh as an act of moral support.

It was his achilles tendon. He’d be out of practice for almost six months to make a full recovery and his parents were pissed off. 

George had sat in the car listening to his parents rant about how careless he had to be and his mother had insisted on getting him to practice despite being in a boot, which ticked George off. Everything had to be his fault, even if injuries as such were unpredictable and they were quite common— sort of— for figure skaters. 

He took the heat of his parents' words and then stormed out of the car (well, not stormed, quickly wobbled away on his crutches).

“You are being a disgraceful child!” his father had grabbed his arm, not roughly, but enough to stop him, “We put in money to get you to where you are and you went and potentially ruined it in one day!”

“You think I purposely injured myself?” George scoffed, “I love to skate! It’s been my entire life so imagine how hurt I feel that I’m out for half a year!”

He cried, looking away, “Why can’t you just offer your support instead of pinning everything on me. Why can’t you just support me! I’m your son!”

“You are my son and you will not disrespect your parents, you will be in your room for the next week. No coming out unless it’s for school. Tell your little friends they can’t visit either,” his father seethed, “See how much you depend on us when you’re not allowed to do anything.” 

George stayed quiet, letting his parents open the door and he didn’t say a word the entire time, only leaving and disappearing into his room as he was told.

There was never a say in his life. Constantly controlled by his parents desire for him to be perfect, he knows they're young, but George felt suffocated. Even if they were barely home, they still were overbearing— but so emotionally absent from his life.

He couldn’t wait till he moved out, especially with Leo. It was the only chance he had to give himself a break from his constant fear of failure.

**Lele**

Georgie, are you okay? Do u need me to come over :(

**To: LeLe**

Sorry, they grounded me. Can't leave my room nor have friends over. I’ll see you at school, though, my love. :)

**LeLe**

They can’t keep doing that to you, you didn’t do anything wrong. Do you want me to sneak in?

**To: LeLe**

I know even if I say no you will do anyways. Windows unlocked. 

It took thirty minutes for the tall man to make his way through the window, and George was sitting on his bed, where Leo had coincidentally tumbled next to him, “Hello sunshine.”

George rolled his eyes, then pressed his finger to his lips, “My parents are in the office so be quiet.”

Leo looked at the door, “Is it locked?”

“Always is,” George laid down, looking at his boyfriend, “Thank you.”

“It’s not your fault,” Leo whispered, “No matter what your parents say. This wasn’t your fault.”

“I could’ve been more careful,” George said quietly, “I don’t know what happened.” 

Leo wiggles himself behind George and presses his chest to George’s back, “Just sleep, okay? You’re probably exhausted, did you get meds for your pain?”

“Yeah, but it’s downstairs with my parents,” George said, he sighed and relaxed into his boyfriend’s touch, “Thank you.”

It was easy to fall asleep in the person you loved mosts’ arms.

——

They had been dating for a year now, all his firsts had gone to Leo, everything. He loved Leo more than anything in the world, he was a calmness in the storm that was George’s life. His parents had also suddenly decided on thinking of the future for his love life and his family though.

“So, do you have a girlfriend George?” his mother said over breakfast one morning, making George still.

“No, why?”

“Well, you should start looking for the perfect girl, maybe one that figure skates as well, that way we can keep skating in the family,” she said, “Your kid should be a figure skater.”

“Well, if my kid tries it and doesn’t like it I don’t want to force them into something they don’t like?”

“Well, have multiple children then, one of them is bound to be a skater,” his mom grins, “I can’t wait to meet my grandbabies one day.”

George’s brain halts, he never really thought about having children in the first place. Besides, he wasn’t good with kids— never met another baby in his family since his parents siblings were quite young. Some only twenty one— his parents themselves were young.

“I’m not looking for a relationship,” he said, “I don’t want to get married.”

That wasn’t true, he wanted to marry Leo, but his parents didn’t know about it. 

“You’ll change your mind when you meet the right girl,” his father responds. He sets down his fork at looks at his wife, “Did you hear, the woman from our works son just came out as gay to her the other day.”

George stopped chewing and pressed his napkin to his mouth. 

“I didn’t,” his mother gasped, “He’s only twelve, how could he know he’s gay?”

“I’m full,” George interrupted, “I’m going to go get my things for school.”

His mother looked at him, “Good, I was about to say you don’t need to eat so much right now. Competition is around the corner. You’ll have to go back on your diet.”

George felt numb as he walked away. Maybe they just didn’t understand. There was no way his parents could be homophobic, they’ve never said anything about them negatively in front of him. He grabbed his backpack and then his phone, rushing out the door to the bus. 

It was going to be a painful few months.

——

The day was coming. George knew this. He was overworked and tired, Leo had started college a few hours from home and he just knew. Leo was going to come home for the weekend and George could barely ever call or talk to him.

He knew what was going to happen yet he did nothing to fix it. Whatever was going to happen it was going to be his fault. No matter how much he loved Leo, how deeply in love he was with him he couldn’t help but feel everything was his fault. This was going to end poorly because of him.

George had finally moved out of his parents house and Leo hadn’t been able to move into an apartment with him due to his scholarship being at a school far away. So he moved in with Sapnap instead.

Sapnap had tried to calm him down in the most restless hours of the night, after hours and hours of practice to the point George could barely move. To the point practice had felt like a chore rather than something he loved. 

He knew that when Leo was coming to visit it wouldn’t be the same. All those I love you’s and deeply affectionate moments they shared up until the point Leo had left for college were going to vanish before his eyes. 

Everything hurt, he felt so lonely and tired, he didn’t feel like getting out of bed half the time but forced himself. His eating habits had been butchered into something unhealthy, though he didn’t see much of a problem with it for the time being. 

When Leo finally came home, the knock on the door was frightening. George had answered and flung himself into Leo’s arms, and the older hesitated, but did the same.

“Leo, I missed you,” George buried himself into Leo’s chest, restraining tears from coming down his face.

“George, can we talk?”

His mind falls apart. Memories of the times he was sung to sleep, held by Leo, kissed, everything to make him feel loved. All the moments they shared together and all the adventures, it all fell apart. They had entered George’s bedroom in silence. Leo took hold of both of his hands and let George sit on the bed, him on his knees in front of him.

The moment Leo sat down, his eyes were apologetic, he was holding his hands, and then he said, “I’m sorry, George. This isn’t working anymore. It’s time we go our separate ways.”

George had broken, but he looked for any sign of a joke, “Are you… Are you sure?”

Leo nodded, “I’m so sorry.”

“There’s nothing we can do to fix it— what happened?” George sniffed, “Leo, I’m— I’m sorry. This is my fault isn’t it?”

“It’s the both of us, we’re too busy for each other,” Leo said softly, “We can’t make time like we used to. I can’t hold you miles and hours away.”

“But— we can’t just throw it all away, we’ve dated for two years,” George cried, “I love you, I love you—“

“I love you too, George, I love you so much,” Leo brought George down in front of him, “In the future, we can be together.”

George looks at him through his lashes, tears still rolling down his cheeks. It was all his fault. He ruined the one constant thing in his life.

Instead of speaking, he just nodded then looked away. Leo brushed the tears off his cheeks and kissed his forehead, telling him goodbye, then exiting the room.

The door of the apartment closed and Sapnap immediately burst into the room, “George?”

“It’s over, Nick,” George sobbed, “He’s gone! It’s my fault!”

Sapnap ignored the use of his real name, even if he preferred the nickname, and swiftly made his way to George’s side, “No, George. It’s not your fault. If he can’t handle a little separation that’s his fault. You two saw each other every other weekend.”

George didn’t believe him. He cried harder and allowed Sapnap to hug him, if anything he cried until he couldn’t anymore. His heart ached too much.

But even with a broken heart he still tried to do his best at practice, his coach had watched over him and calmed him down when his frustration built up. George felt helpless, he felt so tired. He tried to figure out other reasons for Leo leaving. Was he really too boring? 

In the end, the broken heart was still never fully healed, but George was healing. Still avoiding the love he didn’t believe he deserved, so he shut anyone who tried to reach it out. 

When he looks at his calendar, everything hurts a bit more. 

November 10th

**2 year Anniversary!**

It was today. George didn’t know if Leo even remembered.

——

Sometimes George feels like any getting better went down the drain when he and Leo broke up. He no longer felt he had control over his anger and feelings like he slowly was gripping harder to while with Leo. The older man had helped him so much. And now with him gone it felt like it broke loose.

He didn’t blame Leo. He blamed it on himself and his inability to commit to anything or anyone, resorting to shutting himself off from the world. George didn’t really talk to his figure skating pals anymore, and he didn’t know why. He could barely speak to them. The only people he could will himself to speak to was Sapnap and his coach.

It was his fault. So he must pay the price, perhaps never love again. 

* * *

George looked away from the wall, his heart had begun to ache. Then he looked at his dresser where his meds sat, he considered not getting up to take them. But lord knows what Sapnap would do if he didn’t.

So he does. So far there’s been nothing different felt, but his doctor said it’d take a while for the drugs to actually start working. 

The wind is still strong from the storm. George can’t hear it, but he can tell by the way his window shakes. It was a really bad storm out there.

His phone vibrates.

**Dream**

do u want to hang tomorrow :]

George looks at the request. He could, probably. There isn’t anything he’s doing besides practice, and he gets off of practice at six. So in theory, he could. But it was still strange being alone with Dream.

Vertigo jumps on his stomach and lays down, making him laugh softly. She must be afraid of the noises too. He wrapped an arm around her and smiled, “It’s okay. I’m afraid too. But I’ll be here for you.”

He looks at the text message again, hummed.

**To: Dream**

Okay. I can after practice, just let me know.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AHHHHHHHHHHHHH flash back :((( but it gives a broader understanding to George’s brain and why he kinda acts the way he does at points? Hope fully?
> 
> ANYWAYSSSS hope you are all doing well and hope you have a wonderful weekend! Y’all are awesome! Keep yourselves safe and happy <3

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading. Please expect varying updates as I don’t typically have writing schedules. However, I can tell you next chapter will be more focused on George and the terrific inner conflict he will have!
> 
> Can you tell Dream really is trying to be a good guy here? LOL.
> 
> Kudos and comments are more than welcome and are appreciated, I love input and just anything that can motivate me. :)) 
> 
> Have a good weekend!


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